How did it come to this?
by HOJ666
Summary: This is the story about Charles, the oldest kit from the Wilde-Hopps family. Even though, a bright future was laid before him, he often chose the wrong fork in the road of life. Now, he traces back his steps on memory lane.
1. Chapter 0 - Introduction

**Chapter 0 - Introduction**

 **5** **th** **of June 2017, 11 p.m.  
HMC Workshop, Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

In Boarderlands county, five hundred miles away from the capitol Zootopia, between acres of farmland lies the small city Bristleville. Usually a quiet town, but not today, not this evening. What happened thirty minutes ago, was something this town had never seen before.

Neither had Charles. A buck, much too tall for his species.  
He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of the office of his mechanic workshop.

The office was dark, the inside only lit by dim moonlight. He didn't dare to switch on the light when he reached the last room he felt safe in. After all, he could not know if there were any pursuers left and the light could have given away his location.

So, he sat there in the dark, the right leg bent towards him, the other straight out. He couldn't move that leg anymore. The exhaustion of the escape and following pursuit and finally the bullet he took to his thigh had taken a toll on him. The other two bullets, one in his shoulder and the other in his abdomen were not helping his maneuverability either.

His good arm was resting on his knee, the hand gripping one of his two most faithful companions, a Smith&Pawsson 500 Magnum. His bad arm was holding the other companion. A glass filled with his favorite brand of beverage: Wild Turkey Whiskey. The half full crystal carafe was standing to his left.

He groaned as he lifted the glass to his mouth to take a sip.  
This groan, alongside his shallow breathing and the ticking from the clock on the wall, were the only sounds heard. It felt as if he was in the eye of a tornado.

And as he lit a cigarette, his last one he thought, his mind started to wander. Wandering down the road on memory lane, as he tried to remember each step, that led him where he now was.  
Slowly bleeding out, five hundred miles away from his family, on his own property, the Hammers Motor Cycle Mechanics Garage, that was once his dream, and turned into a nightmare a mere month ago.

Each sip numbed the pain emitting from his wounds as well as the effect of the alcohol gave passage to every buried memory.

With a chuckle and asked "How did it come to this?" to the emptiness of the room to no one in particular.


	2. Chapter 1 - Force solves

**Chapter 1 – Forces solves, but only temporary**

 **22** **nd** **of September 1998, 3 p.m.  
Communityschool for all ages (CSFAA), Zootopia**

"Aw man, detention sucks", said Tiberius as he and his brother Charles went for the picnic-table on the far end of the schoolyard. Tiberius was Charles' twin, even though no one could tell by looking. Opposed to his brother, his appearance was a fox through and through, and while Charles already had somewhat of a physique at this young age, Tiberius was quick at thinking and talking. This unfortunately always lead to mischief.

"Hrmpf", Charles scoffed back. "And who's fault was that, dingus?"

"Hey, don't blame me, you goof. It's not my fault that Mrs. Taurus overreacted. Besides, I didn't lie, she is a fat cow. And YOU, brother, had to squish the whoopie-cushion when she was sitting down. Hilarious by the way"

Both started to chuckle about this juvenile prank on Mrs. Maria Taurus, their main teacher.

As they reached the table, they took their usual spots. Charles was sitting on the backrest, feet on the seat, Tiberius on the other bench, one arm over the backrest, the other hand always playing idly with something. This time, he was twirling around his pocket knife.

"We will get in trouble this time, Tib. Not even two weeks of school and we got our third detention."

"You really are as dumb as you are tall. Dad told us we should wait for Lilly. She and some other brainies from her class have computer studies every Tuesday afternoon. No one will know about the detention if you keep your muzzle shut."

"Now we only have to kill…", he looked at the giant clock on the school building, "thirty more minutes until Lilly's class is over".

With the lack of other options, and the resulting boredom, Charles started to do biceps-curls with his backpack, while Tiberius carved a fat cow with farting clouds into the table.

Thirty minutes pass. Then five more, then ten. Still no sight of Lilith, the little sister of Charles and Tiberius who just enrolled in the school that same year. She always has been the wise guy of the family. Annoying at times, but at 6 years of age, she was unbeaten in trivial purrsuit, which was one of the games the family played at least on one evening during the weekend. Which evening it actually was depended on their parents' busy schedule on the ZPD.

Suddenly, a loud pleading echoed over the schoolyard: "NO, HARALD LEAVE US ALONE PLEASE".

This snapped both brothers out of their boredom-induced stupor and snapped their heads towards the school building simultaneously.

Faint laughter could be heard, followed by a squeal of utter fear and they could certainly identify it as Lilith's voice.  
In a fraction of a second, both jumped from the table and ran to the source of the scream.  
A trio of first graders, a slender sheep with glasses, a chubby tiny mole and Lilly were running towards the brothers and they were followed by a group of giggling predators.

Without thinking twice, Charles winded up the arm he was holding his backpack in, and flung it towards the approaching predators.  
The heavy backpack hit one of the predators, a lynx, dead center in his muzzle, which sent him flying backwards.  
The other two predators were a cougar and a bear cub, all of them fifth graders and well-known bullies. The bear named Harald was known as their leader. He was older than his friends by about one year because he had to repeat the fifth grade this year.  
Before the other two predators knew what happened, Harald was tackled down by Charles, which took out the air of his lungs. The cougar stopped in his tracks after he saw his friend go down and started to cower and back away as he realized that Tiberius was launching at him with a snarl and holding the pocket knife in a clawed paw.  
Of course, this was just an intimidation technique Tiberius used, but it seemed to work exquisitely.

Charles stood up and was letting this bear scramble to his feet. They both stood face to face for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. Neither of the two seemed to back away.  
It was Charles who finally broke the silence. "Stay away from my sister and her friends. This is your only warning, Harald". The words were spoken calmly, only Charles trembling fists were an indication of his anger.

"Or what, bunny? You gonna beat me up? You just had a lucky hit".

"You heard what I said: Leave. Her. Alone!"

"Oh, the little freak eyed bunny is angry now." Harald of course referred to one of Charles' biggest insecurities. Him and his siblings all had an eye-condition called heterochromia, which colored one iris violet, like their mother's and one iris green like their father's eyes. "Listen, you better watch your tone, freak! Everyone knows who you three are. Nothing more than mixbreed mutant freaks. Every kit in this school knows it and they are treating you like a disease. And this serves you right, you son of a…"

Harald could not finish his last sentence. The body of Charles did not react by thought, but by raw fury. No one had the right to talk about his family like this. His right paw locket on the collar of Harald's shirt, while his left fist connected with the bully's muzzle several times. As soon as his thoughts took over his consciousness again, he pulled Harald's face close to his and repeated himself: "Leave her alone."  
With this last bit of advice, Charles shoved Harald towards his friends. In this motion, Harald could only stumble and lost his footing, resulting in his muzzle landing in the dirt. This was accompanied by the laughter of Lilith and her friends.

Admitting defeat was never the strength of any of the kits in Harald's circle of friends. "You will be sorry for this, Wilde-Hopps!", Harald spouted over his shoulder as they hurried away. "We will get you for this!"  
The only answer Harald got, was Charles and Tiberius simultaneously flipping the bird at them. The arm which did the flipping raised into the air, the other on the groin, exactly the way they saw it in that movie they watched late at night without their parents' permission.

"THANK YOU, BIG BRO!", shouted Lilith with glee, as she ran towards Charles and tackled him into a tight hug.

Charles answered with a hug of his own and a "No problem, Lil'-Lilly".

Now, Lilith's first friend approached them. Charles could remember his name, since Lilith was talking about him during yesterday's dinner and because he thought the pronunciation was hilarious. His name was Francis, but the a was emphasized and sounded like a bleating sheep.

"Yeah, it was awesome. You hit him like a hammer. You were all like _hrmpf hrmpf_.", he said while throwing punches into thin air to emphases his grunting.

This brought a grin to Charles' face. " 'Hammer'… I should remember this", he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Tiberius watched the celebration with his arms crossed over his chest and could not help but to become grumpy: "I helped too, you know?".

"Of course, you did.", giggled Lilith and ran over to give him a hug as well.

The celebration was short-lived though, as a sniffle, followed by faint sobbing was heard.

It was the mole, apparently Lilith's second friend from her class. He was cowering on the ground, his face covered by his paws.

"What's wrong Mortimer?" asked Lilith as she released Tiberius from her hug.

"Th-hey will hunt and tease us again to-tomorrow. I'm su-sure they will do-double their efforts to make us feel miserable now."

His words were chopped up by the choking, caused by his effort to hold back his tears. Even though Lilith started to comfort her friend, it was in vain. The tears started to trickle down Mortimer's cheeks.

"And ne-next time, your brothers wo-won't be here to save us".

At this remark, a smile started to creep over Tiberius' muzzle. It was the grin he always had, when he had one of his 'famous' ideas.

Slowly, he approached the crying mole. "So, buddy: what would you say if I have a solution for your problem?"

"Hm?"

"Would you like that?"

"M-hm." Mortimer nodded faintly.

"So, I should tell you the solution".

Mortimer wiped some snot from his muzzle with the sleeve of his shirt and nodded again. This time a bit more intensely.

"Well then. My brother and I will spend the breaks with you and we will bring you from the school to the bus stop every day. How does that sound? Good?".

Mortimer now nodded frantically and Francis also answered with a joyful "Yes".

Tiberius knew he got them hooked. All he had to do was to reel the fish in.

"However, everything in life comes at a price."

The shoulders of Lilith's friends slumped down as their happiness faded quickly.

Tiberius reacted quickly. He always had a hand in reading mammals' expressions and counteract to them. Expressions of kits that is. His ability to sweettalk his way out of trouble ended when it came to adults, but this never hindered him at trying anyway, which almost always lead to more dire situations.

So, he raised his arms, open palms towards the two nerdy kits.

"I'm not trying to screw you over. Let's say, you have a safe place in the shadows over there,", he pointed at the picnic table where he and Charles always used to hang out during brakes and occasionally in their free time.

"And the protection, only for half of your lunch-money. I'm not a gangster after all."

Reluctantly, Francis and Mortimer agreed, and sealed that childish contract with a handshake.

Later that night, when Charles and Tiberius were readying themselves for bed, Charles voiced his feeling of guilt for screwing over Lilith's friends.

"We shouldn't have done that, Tib. I feel like one of those bullies now."

"Shut it, shits-for-brains. We did nothing wrong."

"We kind of blackmailed them, you ass. And I told you to not call me that."

"All we did is offer them protection. And as the saying goes: If you are good at something, never do it for free. You are not a bully, you are a bodyguard. A big dumb bodyguard."

"And where does that leave you? I do all the work after all."

"Me?", Tiberius put his paw to his heart, just the way he saw his dad doing it when he played the 'wrongfully accused victim'.

"I, of course, am your manager. You couldn't tie your shoelaces, let alone get such a deal on your own, idiot."

"One more remark like that and you will pay me your share so I'm not going to beat you up," Charles answered and punched his brother's shoulder. Playfully, that is. He loved his brother and couldn't seriously harm him, even if he was an asshole most of the time.

"Yep, I guess I deserved that," said Tiberius while rubbing his shoulder. Both chuckled and made their way to the bedroom.

 **19** **th** **of October 1998, 1:30 p.m.  
CSFAA, Zootopia**

It was a sunny early afternoon. The air was already cold, the leaves had nearly all fallen already. Fall was definitely coming to an end.

The five kits were making their way to their usual spot where they spent every lunchbreak, passed the time until the bus arrived and where they hung out occasionally on afternoons during the weekend.

Roughly a month has passed since that day Charles and Tiberius saved their sister and her friends from Harald and his little gang. The contract between them was canceled after two weeks. They switched from paying with money to bringing more food for lunch to school and the five were sharing their meals. This brought dismay from Tiberius, but Charles felt very delighted by this agreement. Firstly, because he grew quite fond of Lilith's friends and secondly, because he didn't have much of a concept for money at the time, but he had a rather good concept of food.

Of course, Charles still scared off the bullies by his presence and the rumors that spread around the group. The rumors all revolved around them being crossbreeds. Things like that they carried diseases, that they were mindless monsters and such sort. Those little schoolyard-whispers were quite hurtful, but the other kits left our friends in peace.

Only one other kit was unimpressed by all that gossiping. His name was Baron Weaselton. Mostly because he had quite a fair share of rumors surrounding him as well. One of them was that he and his father, Duke, sold stolen items as their only source of income for his family.

His appearance and behavior did not help his reputation in the least bit. Quite the opposite in fact. He was a truant through and through and had always better ideas then to sit in school and be bored. If he was in school however, he either slept in class, with his head on the table or put extra effort into making the teachers' life as hard as he could. This fact made Tiberius rather fond of him.

He looked shady and slim, even for a weasel. His whiskers were uncombed, the fur was unshowered, dirty and had bald spots, and bruises could be seen under his fur sometimes.

Today, he played hookie on the last class. He figured that the last class was not necessary: He didn't understand chemistry anyway. So, he went to the picnic table to wait for his buddies. As he recognized them, he started to wave for them. Recognizing was quite difficult for him today, given he had a swollen black eye today. His father had a way of educating his son, which Duke always described as hard but fair. Fair it was: Baron had smashed a box of expensive glasses and carafes which were meant to be sold. He ruined a whole day of income. At least that is what Baron thought to himself yesterday.

If it hadn't been for that black eye though, the events, that would unfold in a few minutes, could have been avoided.

First, everything was business as usual. They exchanged handshakes. They even invented a special handshake, which they found quite cool. They would mid-five their paws, pull them back, clench them to fists and fist-bump each other once.

Since the next bus would take another twenty minutes to arrive, they all gathered around the table, some ate the leftovers from lunch, some told jokes and talked about the hottest topic an eight-year-old could think of: Superheroes and villains.

"Of course the incredible Bulk could beat up Supermammal. All he needs is some Kryptonium in his indestructible pants and Supermammal would scream for his mommy," said Charles. He had to protect his favorite superhero at all costs.

"You know that this is cheating, doofus. In a fair fight, Supermammal would beat Bulk to the moon and back," retorted Tiberius.

"What do you know about fairness? And stop calling me doofus, you dingus".

This is when Mortimer chimed in: "But when Supermammal sleeps, Thoroar could put his hammer on Supermammal. Only gods can lift the hammer and Supermammal is just an alien".

"Why should Thoroar help the Bulk? Your argument is stupid. Think before you talk".

This bantering continued for a while, and moved to other hero-related topics. If Oceankit could be considered a hero, what Batwolf would be worth without his Batsuit and Wolfmobile and so forth.

Everyone was so involved in their stories, that no one saw the figures moving through the nearby bushes. Baron could have seen it from his position, if he hadn't got a black eye yesterday.

A stone whizzed close to Tiberius' head from those bushes.

All heard the whistling sound as the stone flew by, so they twisted their head towards the direction it came from.

They all saw the one who threw the projectile. It was Harald, and he had been busy the last two weeks. Not only were Gary the lynx and Butch the cougar with him, he had two other kits with him as well.

Charles did not recognize them, but this didn't matter now. He instinctively knew that a stone could do some serious damage and most of his friends and his sister could not fend themselves. This would render him totally outnumbered.

"RUN," he ordered all of them. "Run to the school. Get a teacher. GO!"

All of them hurried off. Charles, however, stayed. He had no idea where this sudden bravery came from. All he did know was that he had to give his friends a head start from the bullies.

Baron, Tiberius and Lilith were fast, they would reach a teacher soon enough, but he was worried about Francis and Mortimer. Francis could not run long distances with his asthma and Mortimer had stubby legs and was a chubby kit.

So, his train of thought told him that, if he delayed Harald and his troop of rowdies long enough, a teacher would come out. Then, Francis and Mortimer would be save too.

"Oh look: Even your friends leave you alone when it comes to pay up the debt," mocked Harald with a big smile on his muzzle. "Don't worry: we will get them after we are through with you."

"I told you last time: you will leave them alone". He had to be brave, but was scared. Of course he was, he was outnumbered and he faced a bunch of fifth graders. He only hoped the others would get a teacher in time.

"Well, you freak eyed bastard, here is how its going to go. First, you will pay. I promised you that. And afterwards, we get your little nerd friends, then that psychokit, and in the end, your mixbreed brother will have his share." Harald gave every insult a precise pronunciation.

Charles knew what he had to do. The more time Harald and his rascals wasted on him, the more time his friends had to get help. The thought of stopping five kits older than him terrified him, but he had to stand his ground.

"What kind of sick bastard are you that you want to beat up a girl, huh? You are the greatest coward-piece-of-shit I know, Harald."

The grin on Harald's face faded into an angry grimace.

"All right, that's it," he said. With a snap of his fingers, he commanded: "Grab this mutant!"

Harald's friends started to sprint towards Charles. "Here goes nothing," Charles thought and started to sprint towards them as well. He tackled one of his attackers and could manage to wrestle down a second one but didn't think about the consequences of being close to the ground.

Soon after, they overwhelmed Charles and each of the predators were holding one appendage of him.

If Charles' nose twitched before, he hadn't realized. Now, however, it was obvious for him and everyone around him.

This is when Harald moved closer. He wore his grin again. An ugly grin which was victorious and sadistic at the same time.

He proceeded to slam his butt on Charles' chest and mocks him furthermore for his own amusement.

"See, Freakeyes? I told you no one likes you. No one wants to help a mixbreed mutant like you."

With these words, Harald spit into Charles' face and the predators begin to laugh. Charles couldn't help himself. He was terrified, he felt trapped, hopeless and alone. Harald's words were somewhat true. Nearly every other kit in school avoided him like some kind of disease. This was too much and he started to tear up. Much to the delight of his oppressors.

The laughter just got louder and Harald said: "Aww, is the little bunny crying now. Wait, let me help you wipe those tears off, huh?", in a childish voice.

He dug his claws into the ground next to Charles' face, pulled out a chunk of dirt and proceeds to rub that chunk into Charles' muzzle and eyes.

Harald's cruel mockery continued: "There ya go. At least it's harder to see your freakeyes, Freakeye."

He lowered his muzzle close to Charles': "You should tell your whore of a mom to stop fucking outside of her species, to stop such abominations from happening."

This was a clear mistake on his side and all that was needed to push Charles over the edge. With the comment of his mother, his blood started to boil and the closeness of Harald's muzzle was all the opportunity he needed.

He gave that bastard a headbutt right on the snout. Harald flung backwards, off of Charles, partly because of the surprising counterattack and the other reason was the sudden sting of pain in his muzzle.

Not only Harald was stunned, but his friends as well, as they loosened the grip on Charles' appendages. This was the second opportunity Charles got and he managed to pull his arms free.

Meanwhile in the school building…

Tiberius ran through the halls and was shouting on the top of his lungs "HELP, I NEED A TEACHER. HEEEELP!"

Several doors opened with teachers poking their heads out. One of the heads was the one of Maria Taurus, who was correcting homework in the teacher's staff room.

As Tiberius reached her, she was already emerged fully out of the room.

"What is it, Tiberius?"

"MY BROTHER… _wheeze…_ SCHOOLYARD … _wheeze_ … FIGHTING."

"Calm down boy. Catch your breath."

Tiberius bent down, his hands on his knees and breathed heavily.

"My brother is in a fight… with Harald… on the schoolyard."

"Oh that rascal! Your brother is in serious trouble now."

Mrs. Taurus hurried down the hall towards the schoolyard already.

"No, it's not what you… think," Tiberius called after her, but she was already out of hearing range before he could finish his sentence.

His choice of words was not the wisest, since Mrs. Taurus was not so keen on both of them to begin with, so their teacher already concluded that Charles was the culprit behind the fight.

Back at the schoolyard…

Charles was in a fit of rage again. No one talked about his family in this manner. Especially not Harald.

After he escaped the grip of the fifth-graders, he nearly jumped to his feet and he… did he roar at them? He did not know that lagomorphs could produce such a guttural sound of anger. They normally can't but Charles was not a normal bunny after all, given his part predatory blood.

What was just a little surprise for Charles, became sheer confusion for Harald and his gang. The confusion morphed into utter terror in a blink of an eye.

The predators had now become prey. They already viewed Charles as some kind of monster and this roar was their final confirmation.

So, Harald's gang made a run for it. All of them? Not quite.

Garry, Butch and the other two kits could escape. Charles did not care too much for them anyway.

Harald, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He was able to turn around but that is all he could manage to do.

As he started his sprint, Charles had already grabbed him on the collar of his jacket.

Harald was pulled back forcefully and landed flat on his back.

His eyes dilated in shock as he realized that, he was in the same helpless situation, he forced Charles into just a minute ago.

Charles, however, took the opportunity and kneeled over Harald's chest. It had been the same rage he felt two weeks prior, only this time, this little tyrant had no possibility to escape.

Charles winded up his fist and slammed it down on Harald's muzzle as hard as he could. Harald tried to plead for mercy as another fist hit his muzzle. Then another, and another. He knew that his nostrils were bleeding. That started after the headbutt, but now he realized something even more concerning. He had the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Charles had smashed one of his fangs out.

Charles' mind was blank. He only stopped his onslaught because a strong hoof grabbed the ankle of his arm, which was already in the air, ready for the next strike.

He looked up and saw the face of Mrs. Taurus, which glowered down on him.

"Get off of this poor kit!" she yelled and pulled Charles off of Harold.

"Come on, let's go to the principal's office. You will face the consequences for this!"

"But… But I didn't…"

"Explain yourself to the principle."

One hour later.

Nick arrived at the school in a police cruiser. He got a call from his son's school, telling him that his boy Charles was in trouble. After telling Judy, he went straight to Bogo's office. Not only did the old buffalo let him leave for the time it took, he could also take the cruiser. This kind gesture mixed thankfulness and surprise into the emotional cocktail of worry and fear for his son.

As he arrived, he made his way straight to the principal's office. Just outside of the office, he saw Mrs. Taurus, Charles, Tiberius, Lilith, a sheep, a mole and a bear-cub. Charles had dirt in his face, but the bear looked far more roughed up. He held a bag of ice on the side of his muzzle which was covered in dried blood. Additionally, Nick saw that one of his eyes started to swell up, the other had a laceration above it.

He thought to himself: "My son did this? No, this can't be true. He couldn't…"

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the principal announced his name and asked him inside. As Nick went in, the principal closed the door behind them.

The minutes dragged on as muffled voices came from the office. Try as he might, but Charles was not able to make out a full sentence of the conversation between his father and the principal.

He already knew that he wouldn't hear what the principal has to say to his dad because prior to the arrival of his father, each of the kits were called in separately to tell their version of the story and Charles could not understand what the others said either.

The minutes stretched as they were a piece of chewed gum.

Finally, Nick came out of the office.

"Come on, kits, time to go", he said while walking towards the exit with his paws in his pocket. He did not look at any of the kits, which made the worried thoughts in Charles' head go rampant.

Charles knew he was in trouble and this gesture was the confirmation that the trouble must be massive.

As the Wilde-Hopps kits slid from their chairs, Nick called out "Francis, Mortimer, you too. I will bring you home."

The first destination of the cruiser was the neighborhood of Francis and Mortimer. With a 'Thank you, Sir' to Nick and a muffled 'you too' to Charles, they both got out.

The rest of the way towards the Wilde-Hopps residence was as silent as the trip into the neighborhood in meadowlands.

An aching feeling was sprouting in Charles' heart during the ride. His father was silent through all of it. He could not point a finger at what it was, but it teared at him.

They arrived and Nick said his first words since they got in the cruiser.

"Tiberius, Lilith, get inside. Charles, I want to talk to you for a moment."

Everyone obeyed. His siblings got out and Charles kept sitting in the passenger seat.

"Y-Yes dad?" he asked with a trembling voice.

His question was met with uncomfortable silence. He still could not find a name for this feeling inside his chest but he finally realized what it was: It was not fear about punishment. He feared that he would see his father disappointed, maybe sad.

He just wanted his dad to say something, anything. He could live with house arrest, with 'no desert' for a month, maybe even television forbade but not this silence.

"Dad?"

It took Nick another second to find the words, which he thought were correct.

"Son, you saved your siblings and I'm proud of you for that BUT…"

He laid a paw on Charles' shoulder and looked him straight into the eye.

"You must promise me, to control your temper. You seriously hurt that kit. This must not ever happen again. Do you understand, Charly?"

The tears swelled up behind his eyes as his father spoke.

"Yes, daddy."

"Do you promise?"

The tear-ducts opened like floodgates.

"Yes, I promise."

Then his father embraced him with a hug and he was letting his son sob into his shoulder.

"Don't let them see that they get to you."

Charles felt a mix of relieve and disgust about himself. He realized that he enjoyed this fury. The sight of Harald's blood encouraged him to go further. This is why he understood his father's words instantly and gave his promise. But Harald called his mother a whore. And he called him Freakeyes. Freakeyes. Whore. Freakeyes, Freakeyes!

The words rang through his head like a chanting.

Charles lifted his head from his dad's shoulders.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Can I please have your aviators?"

"My shades? Why would you…"

"Please dad."

With a sight, Nick reached to the glove compartment, took his glasses and gave them to Charles.

"This is for defending your siblings and your friends. Take it as a medal… And never forget your promise."

"I won't, dad."

Nick gave him a kiss on the forehead and they went inside.

But reality is the way it is, and in this reality, promises are as easily made as they are broken.


	3. Chapter 2 - Adulthood tastes bitter

**Chapter 2 – Adulthood tastes bitter**

 **7** **th** **of July 2000, 12:30 p.m.**

 **CSFAA, Zootopia**

Last day of school. Last day in primary school, and a whole summer of adventure and wonder. Those were Charles' thoughts on this special day.

Just a few more minutes and he would get his school certificate handed to him from that fat bovine, and he surely would get a new teacher next year. Someone he might actually get along with. She made an effort to get him detentions, to find a reason to call his parents to school, she even got him suspended. He hated her for that. Yes, he fucked up, he regretted it and tried to apologize. She still gave him the suspension.

But this did not matter now. Firstly, he hoped, he would never see her again, secondly, he had a whole two months of video games, swimming, bicycling, ice-cream and his small circle of friends in front of him. Life was great.

Thinking back on the school year, which came to an end today, it was great overall. This was mostly due to the fact that Harald switched schools. He had not been violent towards Charles after the incident in 1998, he hadn't even dared to get close to him after that infamous day. However, he did take every chance he could to tease and hurt Charles with his words. Charles did not go after him, no matter how much it hurt. He gave his father a promise, and he was willing to keep it. The aviators reminded him of that promise, so he wore them every day with pride. It looked a bit goofy at first because they were oversized for his head. But eventually, his body grew and the glasses started to fit like a glove or a custom sewn suit.

After Harald was gone, Butch and Gary were not much of a threat anymore. They avoided Charles, his siblings and their friends still, like they were the incarnation of rabies, along with the kits who have heard about the fight. And every kit in the school has heard about it.

"Some of them would go to other schools after primary, some new would come to secondary, so a lot of opportunities to show the others that I'm not a monster." Charles thought while he was slumped in his chair and waited for Mrs. Taurus to call each student alphabetically to hand out the school certificate.

His thoughts were trailing off further as he daydreamed about the celebration he and his friends would have today. It was the idea of Baron to go out camping on the following day. He said that he knew a place in the woods between Zootopia and Boarderlands. Strangely enough, Baron had a perfect plan. Perfect for a rowdy rascal, that is. There was the oasis in the desert district. The other kits from the class would have a party under the teacher's supervision. This also included an optional, scout-esque camp experience. So, Nick, Judy, the Woolworths and the Gophertons would bring their children to said oasis to drop them off, and from there, they could simply sneak away. Once away, they would meet up with Baron and hop on the next train that leads out of the city, get off at Clearwater Station and hike for a mile.

Baron did not need such an intricate plan. He just told his dad, he would be out for tonight and couldn't help with tomorrow's duties.

"Charles Wilde-Hopps. Charles, are you deaf?"

He was abruptly ripped out of his daydream. The whole class was staring at him. He could figure that the teacher had called his name more than once.

"See ya at the table, dingus," he whispered to his brother as he got up from his chair.

"What was that?", asked Mrs. Taurus.

"Nothing, Ma'am."

"I sure hope so. Here is your certificate."

He took the certificate and made his way out of the class.

"One more thing…" Mrs. Taurus said.

"Writing a fake name on an official document is a violation of law. You shouldn't put your little Hammer-nickname on every test in the future. That is childish."

Without an answer, he left the classroom. As he closed the door behind him, he took out his lead-pencil, crossed out his name and wrote 'Charles Hammer Wilde-Hopps' above it. His own little rebellion against the authority. "She can't tell me what to do," he mused and smiled.

He made his way to the table in the back of the schoolyard. He knew, when he took that step out of the threshold, his new life would begin. It did, for the better or for worse, but it came slow.

One step at a time we take, on this long road of life. And every decision we make is a crossroad and those can pave the road towards who we are today. Little did Charles know how much the next fork in the road that waited for him, would shape is life.

He stepped out with his arms stretched outwards to his side and his head held high. The sun was at its high noon and Charles felt its rays on his fur. He was free and he savored this moment. He heard birds chirping, smelled the scent of freshly mowed grass. This was summer.

An eternity, which only took a few seconds, went by and he made his way to their table.

Arriving there, the first thing he did was to scramble through his backpack for the radio he got for his birthday. He didn't care much for the actual radio function, he hated the playlist of the radio station. But the little device had a CD-tray, which he could use to blast the tunes of Mawtallica, Mammal-Slayer, Roarstein, Slippaw and Marilyn Muzzleson all day long. With a built-in battery pack, the device was even portable.

Soon enough, Tiberius made his way to the table. The next to arrive was Baron. Lilith's class had their handouts at 13:00 so she, Francis and Mortimer came last.

Each one of the arrivals got greeted with the group's handshake and their little council was complete.

"So, does everyone remember the plan?" Baron asked.

"Yep, we arrive at the oasis at 11 a.m. Then, we sneak away to the train station and meet you there. Then we board the train to Boarderlands and get out at Clearwater Station." Tiberius answered while he pointed with his pocket knife at different spots at the table. He acted like had a map in front of him.

"And the gear?" came the next question from Baron as he looked towards the Wilde-Hopps trio.

"We have a tent for us three…" came the response from Charles as he pointed to Lilith and Tiberius, "and I will also bring canteens for all of us."

"I will carry my brother's radio and a hand ax", said Tiberius and raised a finger for each item he listed.

"I will carry our bedrolls", Lilith chimed in with her typical juvenile excitement. Charles chuckled at her bouncy attitude and at the thought of seeing his little sister carrying five bedrolls. A pile, which is not heavy, but as big as she was.

Baron looked at Francis and Mortimer. "And you two?"

"I will have the second tent, bedrolls for Morty and me and a flashlight with me."

"And I will take care of food and snacks", said Mortimer as he pointed to his chest.

"Suits you, chubby", snickered Baron. This brought laughing to everyone in the group. Even to Mortimer himself. If a classmate would have made such a joke, he would have felt hurt, but he knew the jokes here were never in bad spirit.

"By the way, would you two share your tent with me?" Baron asked.

"Why don't you bring your own?" As Francis asked, he looked back at Baron with a suspicious expression, complete with squinted eyes and narrow lips.

"Because, woolhead, I have enough to carry myself."

"Which is?" Francis' eyes got even narrower

"A surprise. You will see when we get there."

Mortimer and Francis looked at each other for a short moment. Then they both sighed.

The problem was not that they didn't trust or liked Baron. They did like him, the trust was moderate, Baron was a bit of a two-edged-sword. The main problem was Baron's dirty fur. He smelled quite a bit. A big bit.

"Ok, all right, but only if you take a shower." Mortimer answered reluctantly.

"Yeah about that…" Baron looked around the group, "don't forget your swimsuits." He leaned back on the bench, against the backrest and grinned as the others cheered for that additional idea.

He kept the fact, that they would camp near a river, a secret for a moment like this. He savored the surprise and happiness from his friends.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up." Charles said to get the group's attention. "I know where our dad has stashed his fishing rods, complete with bobbers, hooks and lead weights."

"The first good idea out of your brain since ever," teased Tiberius.

"Of course, someone will have to carry the canteens then and guess who just volunteered." Charles looked over to his brother with a devilish grin.

The annoyed sigh of his brother brought a fresh fit of laughter to all of them.

"Yeah, I guess I earned that now. Why do I always underestimate your sly head?"

That bothered expression was not maintainable on Tiberius' muzzle and he took part of the laughter.

Now that the last details have been talked through, Baron bid his friends farewell and scurried away.

This was the call for the others to leave the school area as well. The bus wouldn't arrive for another couple of minutes, so they decided to go to the general store and bought some candy and soda while they waited.

 **7** **th** **of July 2000, 11 p.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps residence, Zootopia**

"They must be here, I know it!"

"Keep your voice down and keep on searching."

"What do you think we're doing, doofus? Why must there be so much trash around here?"

"How should I know, dingus? I guess that is what a basement is for. To store trash."

"Why did we have to do this during the night anyway? During the afternoon, we at least had some sunlight in here."

"Because, you big dumb in a big dump, if we get caught searching for the fishing rods, mom and dad know something is up. Or do you think they would believe we would go fishing at the oasis?"

"I guess not."

"See? That's why you leave the thinking to me."

A smack was heard, followed by a muffled yelp.

"What was that for?"

"For calling me stupid."

"I would never call you stupid. A little slow, maybe lazy-thinking, maybe even…"

Another smack was heard.

"You want some more?"

"All right, all right, I'll stop. Damn, you sure are good at aiming at my shoulder. You don't even need to see it."

"My fist and your shoulder are made for each other. Their longing will always find a way to reach for another, even in complete darkness."

"Very poetic. Where did you read that, a Supermammal comic?"

"Arachnid-Boy, in the last comic, where Peter Barker was talking to Mary Jane Wombatson."

"That explains it… OUCH."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, something stung me. Shine your flashlight here."

Charles pointed his flashlight towards Tiberius, who held up his index finger. As Charles came closer, he saw peculiar curved piece of metal protruding out of said finger.

It had a little noose on the visible end.

"Be quiet, this might sting a little," said Charles as he took Tiberius' finger in one paw and pinched the metal piece carefully with the other.

If this thing is, what he though it is, the extraction would do more than just a little sting.

In a quick succession of moves, he pulled this wire-like thing out of Tiberius' finger and moved the hand, which was holding said finger over to Tiberius' muzzle and clamped it shut.

Good thing he did, because he suppressed a pain filled scream from his brother. When the rush was gone, Tiberius swatted Charles' paw away and they looked at the small thing in Charles' paw.

A curved rod, not thicker than a whisker, one end had a noose, the other had a barbed tip. It was definitely a fishing hook.

"Where did you find this?"

"I waff reatfing intho thiff bokf", he pointed one finger towards a small toolbox, while the injured finger was in his mouth, causing the linguistic disorder.

Charles pointed his flashlight to where Tiberius has pointed. There it was, what they were searching for. All the fishing gear they needed and the fishing rods too. They were retracted to a forearm's length. This is why they couldn't find them at first but this played in their favors since they could smuggle them out in their backpacks.

He investigated the toolbox closely and saw why his brother got hooked. The last time their dad took them fishing, he neatly pinned every hook on a wine-cork but there was also an open bag of hooks in the box. Cautiously, he fished the cork out of the box, took a little container with the lead weights, and two bobbers, as well as two of the rods.

"Ok, very well. Let's get out of here."

"And what about my finger?"

"Don't be a baby, put a patch on it and be done with it. Now, hurry up, before someone catches us."

Tiberius grumbled: "That's not a job for a simple plaster," but didn't lose another second and hurried after his brother who was sneaking up the basement stairs already.

In the end, all that was needed to conceal Tiberius' cut was a single plaster.

 **8** **th** **of July 2000, 2:30 p.m.**

 **Clearwater Train station, Zootopia**

All went according to plan. After the Wilde-Hoppses got dropped off, they went towards the gathering near the oasis. Once they heard their parent's car driving off, they headed back out towards the street and from there, to the station.

The teacher did not expect them, because they never brought the signed approval from the parents to the teachers and they have not been spotted by any of the other kits either.

All the kits had to be cautious about now, was to get back to the oasis in time tomorrow.

Even the train arrived on time, which was a rare occasion according to Nick, who always complained about public transport when they visited Granpaw Stu and Granmaw Bonnie.

During the train ride, they occupied one of the sleeping cabins in the back of the train. It had curtains on all windows which the kits pulled shut, to not get seen by some nosy adult. This did not prevent the conductor to check in on them for their tickets.

Thankfully though, Charles already had the height of a full-grown rabbit. A small rabbit for that matter.

Additionally, the conductor did not care enough to check on his ID. He cared more for the fact, that their tickets were valid and that the kits were traveling with someone who looked like an adult.

Aside from that, the ride was uneventful but not boring. The only odd thing Charles noticed was the way Baron handled his backpack. Usually, he does not care for it. Throwing it aside carelessly whenever he arrived at the table, sometimes using it as a pillow when he wanted to stretch out on the bench and so forth.

This time however, he treated the backpack carefully, even delicately, like an expensive vase or some sort of weird porcelain doll.

So, Charles got ahead and asked about the content of Baron's bag, which got answered by defensive and parrying answers. The last statement Charles got from Baron was a snarled: "It's the surprise, ok? And if I tell you now, what good is the surprise then?"

This seemed logical enough for Charles and he let the topic slide.

The troop already left a third of their hike behind them. They progressed rather quickly as they were walking beside the road, but not as quickly as they could. They enjoyed this first day of summer to its fullest, breathing in the fresh air, swallowing the scenery with their eyes, rollicking around and having tons of laughter.

The only difference between this hike and a walk through the park was the waist-high grass, but they didn't mind. They were in no rush to get to the place Baron talked about. They had most of the afternoon in front of them.

Soon enough, Lilith, Francis and Mortimer were playing sword fighting with sticks they found beside the road. Tiberius and Baron were readying themselves for a sprint on the street.

This left Charles alone with his thoughts and the amazing view in front of him. He switched on his CD-player and skipped to the most fitting song for this situation he could think of: Carry On from Mammal-o-war. Not his most favorite song from them, he liked rougher music in general, but this whole situation screamed for some happy and mellow tunes.

He could not help but to repeat the song multiple times. This was the feeling, this was life. Everything was just the way it was supposed to be.

The idyll was a bit short lived as he heard a low roaring sound, which moved towards them.

In fact, all of them heard it and hurried together. Charles switched off his player and laid himself down in the tall grass, along his friends.

The roaring became louder with every moment and then they saw the source.

A group of bikers rode down the road. Maybe ten or twelve bikes passed them. Charles was fascinated by this view. The chrome on the bikes, the sleek black paint job, the roaring of the engines, the outfits of the mammals riding them. Without putting much thought into his actions, Charles got up and got a glimpse of a patch on the back of one rider's jacket. It was a savage tiger, in a leaping position, fangs barred and claws extended. On top of this tiger a name was stitched in: Mammals of Mayhem. Below the tiger patch: Clearwater Charter.

"I want to be just like them. Riding into the sunset, no obligations, no rules," thought Charles to himself as he was harshly pulled down by his brother.

"Get down, idiot. If someone catches us, we are done for," Tiberius hissed at him.

Charles glared at him for a moment, then his gaze wandered back to the bikers who faded out his sight of view quickly.

As Baron saw the amazed face of Charles, he couldn't help but let a smile creep over his muzzle. Charles' gaze confirmed him, that the surprise he got in store for him would definitely hit the right spot.

The bikers were out of sight, but their engines could still be heard far longer. They kits didn't dare to get up until these roars were only a faint echo in the distance.

"Phew, that was close," Lilith exhaled and giggled a little.

"Yeah, we should go cross country for the rest of the way," Baron decided, "the road is not safe enough. Next time we might not get so lucky."

"And you know that way too? I don't want to get lost," came a warily reply from Charles.

"Don't be such a scaredy bun, scaredy bun."

Charles gave that statement a moment of thought, his gaze rested on Baron's eyes. When he sighted and nodded, the rest of the kits agreed as well. Charles switched on his CD-player again, clipped it onto his belt and skipped some tracks until he found the song he thought would fit: Soldiers of the Wasteland from the band Dragoon Force.

Lilith started to sing along, even though he did a good job of missing every note. Under usual circumstances, either of the brothers would get annoyed by this. But this was not a usual situation. Everyone felt, as if the whole world would be laying at their feet.

It did not take much longer, until the plains of tall grass switched place with a thick forest. The borderline between these areas was overgrown by shrubs and thorny bushes, hence outlining this transition from bright and hot, to gloomy and cool.

This was surely not an insurmountable obstacle, but it would definitely not be a pleasant one, since all of them wore shorts; all but Tiberius, who wore long jeans, despite the weather. Before anyone could suggest it to Tiberius, he already rummaged through his backpack, pulled out the hand ax and got to work on those bushes.

His swinging was exaggerated and clumsy, but he managed to clear out just enough, that everyone could pass through unscathed.

As they stepped in, everyone instantly felt the pleasant cool of the forest.

They didn't take their time now. One by one became more impatient and eager to find this illusive place Baron gushed about the last week.

So, they stepped up their pace and moved on.

After another fifteen minutes, their path started to lead downwards until they came to a rather steep slope.

"Nearly there. You can see our destination already," Baron proclaimed and pointed at a clearing, close to a river, that lay beyond the slope.

"We just take a left here and…" Baron's explanation abrupted quickly as he heard a screech.

Lilith, drawn in by view of the clearing, didn't wait for Baron to explain the safe road down.

Eagerly, she went straight ahead and lost her footing after the third step down, leading her to slide down the slope. She was lucky and could grab onto an exposed root, which stopped her sliding.

"Help, please!" She shouted.

This snapped both of her brothers out of their confusion which followed after her initial shriek. Charles was the first one to free himself from his backpack and slide after his sister. Without the surprise of losing the footing, Charles managed to grab onto any roots and shrubbery to get safely to his sister.

Not a second too late, he reached his sister. He saw her, clinging to a root with both paws, but he could not see her legs. The slope ended at Lilith's waist and Charles realized, she was hanging over a ledge, which could only be a sheer drop.

He stretched his paw towards his sister.

"It's all right, Silly-Lilly. Come on, grab my paw."

"I can't, I'm too scared."

Charles tried to lean in closer. With this shifting of his bodyweight, the dirt underneath his hind paws gave way as well. He lost his balance and found himself in a similar situation as Lilith. He, however, managed to pull himself back up onto his feet.

He tried to reach for his sister once again.

"Come on, Lilly, be brave for me. Grab my paw!"

Lilith looked at her brother's paw with wet eyes. She pressed her eyes shut and leaped for the paw. She felt the tight grip around her wrist, and nearly instantly felt her brother pulling her close.

"Climb on my back and hold tight. We're doing a piggyback ride."

She did as she was told. As soon as her brother made an effort to climbing back up, they both saw Tiberius carefully making his way towards them. But before Tiberius could reach down and help his siblings, all three heard a dreadful sound. The roots of the shrub, which Charles and Lilith clung onto, could not support their combined weight. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as the roots were pulled out of the ground.

With a snap, the last thick root was pulled out of the ground and the last resort between Charles and the ledge was gone.

They began sliding again. There was nothing Tiberius could do to save them, he only could watch his siblings go over the edge. His face turned into a pained grimace as he inhaled for an equally pained outcry, which never came.

The time between his siblings sliding over the edge and the two thuds, the sound of them, colliding with the ground was almost instantly.

He stared in silence and utter confusion for a moment, when suddenly: Did he hear laughter? Yes, it definitely was laughter.

The moment Charles saw the roots starting to rip out of the ground, panic crept into his heart. He tried frantically to shift his weight, to find something else to latch onto, but his efforts were in vain. This fight against the inevitable only caused the roots to snap more rapidly.

When the shrub could not hold their weight anymore and they began to slide towards the edge of the slope, Charles tried to dig his fingers into the ground, to find anything, anything at all, to stop them from going over. The only thing he found was loose dirt. All the while, Lilith clung to his neck and cried in terror.

He felt his body go over the edge. "This is it," he thought. "This is the end of it all. What a great way to…"

 _THUMP-THUMP!_

His thoughts were aborted mid-sentence as he landed on his bottom in soft grass. Lilith landed next to him on her back, which was cushioned by the bedrolls, which she carried on her back.

They both looked towards the ledge, from which they came. The 'sheer drop' was only 6 feet tall. A second after, their gazes met. In the adrenaline rush and the following feeling of relief, they began to laugh.

"What is going on down there?"

"We are OK. The drop is nothing more than a little hop. Bring my backpack with you when you come down."

All of the kits from above the little cliff sighed in relief. Tiberius hopped after his siblings, the others came down the long way. When the others arrived, Baron and Francis where wheezing under the weight of the two additional backpacks.

All of them stood on the clearing. They saw the twinkling from the early-afternoon sun rays, which reflected from the waves of the flowing river.

The kits, which were still carrying their backpacks let them drop from their shoulders carelessly.

An eternity, which took a few seconds, passed. None of them dared to take a single breath, as if the single most insignificant action would destroy this moment.

The first one who dared to move was Francis, who put his hoof into Lilith's paw. This simple action of affection did not destroy the dreamy atmosphere. Quite the opposite in fact. Francis' heart skipped a beat as Lilith squeezed his hoof softly.

Tiberius was the first one to fully awake from his trance. He put his elbow up to the shoulder of Baron with a cheeky grin.

"How comes, that an ugly-face, knows such a beauty-place?"

Baron answered by taking Tiberius in a headlock and noogied his skull between his ears.

"What was that about an ugly-face huh? I think someone needs to flush the shit out of your toilet of a head. Good thing we have running water here."

This could have been seen as an act of aggression in the eyes of an outsider, but it was nothing more than their usual playful bantering.

Tiberius played along as Baron went towards the river, the head still in the headlock. He only offered a tiny bit of resistance, so Baron would not get suspicious.

As they got close to the river, Tiberius freed himself with a single push, and proceeded to tackle Baron from behind. This sent both of them flying into the water.

As they both surfaced, Tiberius looked into Barons eyes, grinned, wiggled his eyebrows and stated: "Never tussle with a Wilde-Hopps, Weaselton!"

The laughter from the kits could not be contained anymore. It was long, loud and wholeheartedly.

"Get out, you are scaring the fish away." Charles said with a chuckle as he pulled the fishing gear out of his backpack.

The afternoon went by far too quickly. The water was a godsend. The best remedy against the warmth of this summer day and the brothers even caught some fish. Two fish each, to be exact. They were glad they did, since they found out that Mortimer did not pack enough food to get them all fed up.

As the sun started to set, they begin making their camp. Tiberius readied his hand-ax and went further into the woods with Charles to collect firewood. Francis and Lilith went off to collect stones. They also went into the woods, just in the other direction as the brothers. "A strange place to get stones, since they camped on the edge of a riverbed which had enough stones," Charles later noted to his brother.

The answer he got was: "Dumbass. Have you seen the way she looks at him? And the fact that they scurried off while holding hands was not a good-enough indication for you, huh? Next time, they should send a carrier pigeon into the depths of your thick skull."

His own answer was followed by a yelp from Tiberius through the woods, as Charles fist connected with his shoulder.

Baron and Mortimer stayed at the camp to set up the tents. Both chuckled at the echo from the yelp.

"Those Wilde-Hoppses are a bunch, huh?"

"Yeah, especially Charlie-boy. Always acting so tough."

"Hey, he did save our asses more than once. And that includes your ass too!"

"You think I don't know, goofy-gophy? But he sure is way too quiet. I think he is just a big ol' softy, hiding behind all that buff."

"You sure? I mean, you heard the rumors. About the class fund-box. The other kits say…"

"Concentrate on building the tents." Baron cut Mortimer off in a strict tone.

"But.."  
"Nothing but. Keep your muzzle shut. All you need to know is that, these are rumors. Don't mention them around Charles, capiche?"

"Oh, ok."

Soon enough, the tents and the fireplace was set up. As tinder, they used some dry leaves and tree bark which Charles and Tiberius scavenged from a fallen tree. The fire was lit by Baron's lighter. A zippo with golden casing. The front had the grim reaper sculpted on.

They sat around the fire, grilled the caught fish and veggies on sticks and threw some potatoes into the ember.

The prey from the group were still stunned by sight of seeing their prey-looking friends eating meat. They knew, Charles, Tiberius and Lilith were chimaeras, a crossbreed between predator and prey, but seeing bunny-look-alikes chomp down enthusiastically on fish. This would forever be a bit strange for all of them.

Charles was about to pull out his CD-player again as he was stopped by Baron.

"Wait up… I have something."

Baron rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a plastic casing.

"I know I didn't come to the birthday party of you two to give you the present, but you know, our parents are not that close."  
"Yeah, we know. We agreed that it was alright."

"Anyway, this is my present for you, Tiberius." He turned to him and handed over a CD-casing.

"It's Fang Halen. I hope you like it."  
Tiberius took the case with both paws.

"Thank you, Baron. This is awesome!"

"What are you waiting for? Hand it over." Charles already waited with a stretched out paw for the CD, which he put in the player as Tiberius gave it to him.

"Does it have 'Leap' on it?"  
"Yep, second track. This not the only CD you'll be getting from me. There is more waiting back at home."  
"Wow, thank you Baron." Tiberius pulled him into a tight hug.

"And Charles? I have also something for you."

Charles looked up from his player again to see Baron pull something black from his pack. A jacket. It was definitely a jacket, but as he took it from Baron's paws, he felt the material.

It felt strange, unlike any other fabric he knew. Almost like skin. Not only this, it also shined sleekly in the light, emitting from the bonfire.

Charles' puzzled look was the call for Baron to answer the unvoiced question.

"This material is called leather. You heard about the continent, far overseas, which we call the savage lands?"

All eyes are bound to Baron now. Some nodded

"In these lands, there are tribes of bovines. Legend has it, that they are cannibals. During sacrifice rituals, they eat their prisoners of war after skinning them. Eating meat made these Bovines go mad and savage."  
Lilith's eyes widened in fear by Baron's story. Francis noticed and put an arm around her shoulders, which lead to her flinching before she slid closer to his side.

"Afterwards, they start a process, what they call tanning. Basically drying it and shave the hair from it. The tribes chief would wear those leather-jackets as proof of their power.

Rich pioneers buy these jackets from them and bring them back here."

"Ok, that's enough of your horror-stories, Baron. You're scaring Silly-Lilly."  
Baron scoffed. "Well, if you don't like it, give it back then."

Charles pulled the jacket close. "No, no, no, i love it. It looks just like the ones the bikers wore, earlier."

Baron was satisfied that his presents had the desired effect. His friends were happy, and so was he.

"And as my grand finale, I have something for all of us."

He pulled cans, held together by a six pack ring, out of his little mystic bag, which seemed to contain the universe by now.

He handed everyone a can.

"After a good meal, you should always drink a beer, as my old pop says."

Some examined the can, Charles opened the lid and sniffed at it. It smelled interesting. A musky and dry aroma.

"And the best thing to enjoy a beer with are friends and these."  
He threw a crumbled pack towards Tiberius.

"But this is only for the older ones of us."

"Cigarettes? Really?" asked Tiberius, who looked a bit puzzled.

"Yep, nothing better than a good smoke, cold beer and my lads around me," Baron quoted is father as Tiberius took a cigarette out of the pack reluctantly.

Charles took a cigarette as well and gave back the package. This landed well with the rest of the kits. They were not sure about the beer to begin with, but cigarettes were a total no-go for them. No one would reveal the smoking or drinking to the parents, but this did not mean that they have to taste it themself.

Baron lit his cigarette first, then he gave Charles and Tiberius the fire.

Both sucked in the smoke and started to cough immediately after.

"Slow down, buddies. This is not a race. Keep calm and collected."  
Charles did another puff, this time he made it slow. After exhaling, he took a sip from his beer.

"So, whaddaya say?" Baron said with an expectfull expression on his face.

"Bitter. Very bitter."  
"Well, that was to be expected. Adulthood tastes bitter."

Bitter it was, oh how it was. But not necessarily bad. Charles even thought he tasted a little sweet aftertaste.

For everything, there is a first and last time. This was surely Charles' first, but it wasn't gonna be the last time he ever drank and smoke. Far from the last.

All of them got tipsy before they finished the second can. The younger ones could only finish one each, before they felt the effect of the beer already.

Tiberius was the first one to call it a night. He crawled into the tent which they named the Wilde-Hopps-Fort of Pure Awesomeness and Greatness, earlier.

The next ones to hit the hay were Lilith and Francis. Charles raised an eyebrow, as he saw that they both got into the other tent, which was meant for Francis, Mortimer and Baron, but he refrained from interfering.

"Well, _burp,_ since those two love-muffins are in this Tent of the Rulers of Galaxy and Time now, I guess the Wilde-Hoppses will have me for a sleepover for the first time ever," said Baron and got into the Wilde-Hopps tent of Pure Awesomeness and Greatness.

This left only Charles and Mortimer out. Both sat in silence for quite a while, watching the bonfire. Soon enough, faint snoring and other sounds of sleeping mammals could be heard from the tents. The occasional shifting, grumbling, all that sort.

Charles himself was calm. He blankly stared at the sparkling fire. Mortimer's mind, however was racing. His thoughts were circling about the big rumor that surrounded Charles nowadays. Why did he get suspended? What was truth, and what were lies, that were told through the whispers in the classrooms and on the school yard?

Another moment of silence passed until Mortimer found his guts and spoke up.

"Uh… Charles?"

"What's up, Mort?"

"I-I wanted to… to ask about… if you..."  
"If I took the class funds?"

"Ye-Yes."

Charles answered with a sight and started to poke the ember with a stick and Mortimer looked ashamed to his paws with interlocked digits.

With the burning stick, Charles lit up a cigarette. Baron was so kind to give the pack to Charles.

"So-Sorry. I didn't mean to…"  
"I did it all right? I did. I took the box. I'm not proud of it."  
"M-May I ask why?"

"I don't know. Maybe for thrill. I just saw the key to the box fall from Mrs. Taurus bag and I snatched it from the ground."

He puffed some out of his nostrils.

"After school, I went back to the classroom, took the cash and scurried off. No one saw me."

"Why did you get suspended then?"

"They drew conclusions. Mrs. Taurus hates my brother and me. They spoke the suspension out without proof."  
"Wait I don't understand. Tiberius was not suspended."

Charles wanted to tell the story further but stalled for a second.

"Ok, I will tell you something and you will promise that it will stay between us. I have a reputation to hold up."  
Mortimer nodded.

With a sigh, Charles continued: "I felt so guilty, I could not not sleep that night. So I gave the money back to Mrs. Taurus personally.. with an apology."

"Wait… This doesn't make sense! The teachers say the money didn't turn up. From what I heard, it is still stolen."

"It is. Mrs. Taurus kept the money. The next day, she came to school with a new dress and I got suspended for two weeks."  
"Oh shit! Really? She did that?"

Charles' eyes started to fill with tears.

"Yes, really. I thought I could trust her. I can't understand why she did this to me. No matter how much she dislikes me, she is a teacher after all."  
Mortimer started to hug his tall friend. It's the only thing he could do to comfort him, after he saw that Charles was full out crying now.

"I guess when someone has an opinion, you can do nothing to change it. They all see me as the troublemaker. And if they only gonna see an untrustworthy and shifty rascal, there's no point in trying to be anything else. I wanna go where no one knows me, to start fresh."

"I really understand why you hate that teacher now. What a witch."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Charles drank his can empty and both went in their tents to sleep.


	4. Chapter 3 - Rebellion comes at a cost

A/N: I tried a little experiment with this chapter. Everytime you see a 'Cue', I advise you to play said song, for atmospheric purposes.

I know, Heavy Metal is not for everybody but you should still give it a try.

As second item on the docket, since my vacation is over tomorrow, I cannot guarantee to maintain my weekly upload schedule. I'm sorry in advance.

With that being said, enjoy the read.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Rebellion comes at a cost**

 **September 2000 to May 2004**

The years came and went. Days themselves felt like a drag, but the weeks were gone in the blink of an eye. Secondary school was not as Charles had imagined at the start of that magical summer in the year two-thousand. Him and Tiberius got a new teacher, yes, and Charles learned that the path of most resistance often lead to more hassle than it's worth.

Additionally, they've got a few new classmates in secondary, but these were quickly on his old classmates' side. Soon enough, the avoiding, taunting, bullying and hostility continued.

The second truth that he found during these years was: Kits are, and will always be, cruel.

He could not count how often he wanted to stand up and give one of those brick-heads a piece of his mind, serving these sewer-maws a few knuckle-sandwiches, give these arses a good old kicking.

But he never raised a hand against one of them. He gave a promise and he was sure to keep it forever.

He had ways to deal with the pent up aggression. One way was activity. He would let out steam by beating up their punching bag at home, running laps around the field, doing his workout. As for the second way of coping, was smoking and the occasional bottle of beer either he, his brother or Baron scored. Of course, he was in no way aware that this was a way of coping for him. He saw it as a simple recreation, a reason to feel like a grown up. He had it under control, he could quit whenever he wanted. Never would any of this become a habit. At least, this is what he thought, in his childish mind.

On the other paw, these two ways of dealing with the world and himself have had a little side-effect, that worked enormously well for Charles. It somewhat balanced his mind. He was able to concentrate better. Without realizing, he was a lot more attentive during class.

If he would have carried more to study after school, he could have been an A-grade student, but he averaged with a solid C grade. He still struggled with math, chemistry and physics, but his strong traits were Phys-Ed and workshop class. Even the highschool's maulerball team considered taking him in, as soon as his secondary years are over.

Ironically, Tiberius' best class was math. "If you put a dollar-sign in front of the numbers, it suddenly all makes sense", he once explained to Charles, who couldn't wrap his head around the fact, that his brother did well in school. While Charles prefered working with metal in workshop class, Tiberius was a luminary in woodwork. His constant toying around with his pocket knife absolutely paid off. He could sculpt figurines of nearly anything, out of a solid block of wood. Once, he carved a figurine of himself and his two siblings, complete with pedestal for their parents anniversary. Of course, he carved himself on the first place.

Lilith finished primary with the status of 'best kit in class'. She aced every subject, which lead to Tiberius teasing her with names like nerd and swot. Besides that, he teased her with Francis. They were not in a relationship, but this was just a matter of time. No later than the time when puberty will hit them. Even someone who didn't know those two would see that they had a thing for each other. Her shy glimpses towards Francis when he wasn't looking, Francis' rising nervousness when she was close to him, the moment of frozen silence when their paws touch by accident.

Even though Lilith was teased as nerd for her perfect grades, Mortimer was the real nerd of the group. While hanging out with the them, he was more socially active than anytime else, but this was still not much, compared to the others. He was the dictionary definition of an introvert, he never spoke up and had the smarts of a bookworm. Where he really shined, though, were videogames. Super Pawrio Land, ClawFighter II, Donkey King Country, R. , The Legend of Muzzelda, Galaxy Fox, whatever you like, he had them all.

Many weekend hours were wasted by the kits over at Mortimer's house, and they sure as hell enjoyed wasting it.

Even Baron's life twisted around for the better towards the end of the year 2003. After an argument with his dad, that led to Baron being hospitalised, Kit-Services took care of the case. Afterwards, Baron moved to his aunt, who lived a bit outside of Zootopia. The only issue was, that he had to take a longer commute to school via train every day. Aside from the longer commute, life was brightening for Baron in every aspect.

This didn't stop our little manice to continue to be manicing. His motto was, and would always be: "Why pay for it, when counterfeits are almost for free?".

It was also around this time, that he organised counterfeited identity cards for himself, Charles and Tiberius. On these, they were at legal age.

In another instance, he showed Tiberius a way to get free cigarettes. There were cigarette-vending machines all around town. Behind the flap in front of the tray, where the pack would land, were short mechanical levers. He explained, that each one corresponds to a different shaft, which held the different brands of smokes. Afterwards, he demonstrated how to access these levers from the outside. All you had to do, was to insert a piece of wire, which had a firm noose at the end, hook it around the desired lever and give it a strong pull. Finding the level blindly was the only tricky part, but with some fiddling around, Tiberius learned that trick.

 **5** **th** **of June to 15** **th** **of October 2004**

This year, Judy and Nick really exceeded themselves with the birthday presents for Charles and Tiberius.

While the boys were still slumbering, Nick hauled a drum set, an amplifier and a Guitar into the room of their boys.

Nick could convince his wife to play a little prank on their kits. After the amp was hooked and the drum set was set up, Nick gave the cymbals a hard hit with the drumsticks, while Judy twanged the Guitar. As expected, both boys were ripped from their dreams. Tiberius even fell out of bed as he jumped.

It took the brothers a few seconds to reorient themselves and several other seconds to understand what was going on.

All the while, Nick and Judy had the time of their life. The prank worked perfectly.

At last, it dawned on the boys, that these instruments were theirs, and theirs only. Joy overtook their usual morning grumpiness.

This happened on the 5th of June. It took the good part of the next week for Lilith to convince her parents to buy her an instrument too. Her convincing tactics were simple but effective. A series of nagging, followed by big pleading eyes the day after. She really knew how to handle the parents with her 'daughter's charm' as Tiberius called it.

The instrument she got was an old keyboard, which suited lil' Lilly perfectly. The time she didn't spend studying or practicing, she tinkered around with her keyboard. She figured out how to access the sound chip of the keyboard and loaded additional sounds onto it. Sounds like the start of a jet plane, a car crash, shattering glass and such things were easily accessible by the internet. Other things, like guitar notes or the bang of a drum, she could easily sample from their brother's instruments.

It didn't take long for her to transform that old keyboard into a full-blown synthesiser.

Shortly after, Francis, Mortimer and Baron got word of the Wilde-Hoppses new toys and, as teenagers are, they needed to get a piece of this cake as well.

Francis bought a guitar from his saved up allowance and Baron came up with a bass-guitar the next week. None of the friends dared to ask where he got it from. It looked absolutely roughed up, but did its job.

The only one who didn't get himself an instrument was Mortimer but it didn't matter much to him. He was more of a listener than a creator, as he had put it himself.

He was happy when he could hang out with his only friends and listen to their tunes.

Not only did the interests of the kits change. Collectively, their appearance did as well. Baron, for example, stopped having bruises. His fur had regrown and he was definitely not as slim as when he was living with his father.

He got his eyebrows, lip and tongue pierced, which lead to a bit of protest from his aunt's side, but she soon gave in. She knew, the more you forbade something, the eagerly teens will try to break those rules.

The Wilde-Hopps-Kits all had a peculiar gene-dysfunction that regulated fur growth. The fur on the skull didn't seem to stop growing. Tiberius and Lilith utilized this defect. Lilith let her headfur, the only red part of her, grow to her waist, which strangely underlined her still forming femininity.

Tiberius always combed his back and fixed it with a rubber band, while he let the fur around his muzzle grow naturally.

Charles, however, didn't like this fact. Since the last encounter with Harald, he always felt ashamed for being a chimaera. The only thing he did, was to dye a broad stripe from his forehead, all the way back to the middle of his shoulder blades black.

This trend was also picked up by Francis. Since he became thirteen, he also dyed his wool black, but he even got a step further.

He had naturally frizzy wool, so it became a big part of his morning routine, to straighten it. He had to get up one hour earlier to accomplish that. However, for his conceitedness, he thought it was worth it.

The band was founded in the span of a month. Much to the dismay of Nick and Judy.

Yes, the kits got better with each jam they did, but they were still far away from listenable.

It took several angry calls from disturbed neighbors before it was clear: The 'Howling Harbingers' could not perform in the garage of the Wilde-Hopps family anymore.

Of course, they searched for a more applicable place to practice, and so they did. The place they found was called the HiFi-Forge. Up until last year, it was an abandoned storage hall. A rich entrepreneur and self proclaimed enthusiast of music, bought, renovated and remodeled it into multiple separate and soundproof practice rooms.

On the website of the HiFi-Forge, multiple types of 'practice apartments' were available, ranging from a cheap two-room option, without any provided instruments, up to the most expensive option, which came with high-quality instruments in one room, a recording studio in the second, and a lounge room, filled with couches, a fridge and everything a tired musician could wish for in the third room.

There was no way the kits could afford anything more than the cheapest option, but this naturally did not matter: they had their own instruments and could find one or two couches themself. Baron had already told them, that he knows a guy, who knows a guy who works at the junkyard. He could get them some furniture. A bit torn apart but cheap.

The next day after they found this opportunity, each one of the kits convinced their parents to check it out together. Nick and Judy were eager to help. They were delighted to see their kits taking responsibility and make good use of their allowance. But mostly they were happy to have Fridays and Saturdays in peace and silence again.

Mortimer's and Francis' parents were reluctant at first, sending their kits into an old storage hall, signing a contract with a mysterious 'Daniel Lunarus Wolve'.

After they saw the renovated building from the out- and inside and got to meet Mr. Wolve , their initial fear was blown away.

Nothing of the gloomy atmosphere in and around the abandoned hall was present anymore. The metal sheets which was the roof, was replaced by reinforced glass. This flooded the hall with broad daylight. The reddish-brown brick walls were covered with isolation and white paneling.

After a quick look-around, the parents were greeted by a young timberwolf. His clothing style was elegant, though a bit out of the ordinary. In a way, he resembled the clicheé of a successful business artist. He wore a well fitting silver sports coat, underneath a printed shirt. The print was a band-logo, The Zootopia Undergrounds. Accompanying his silver sports coat, he wore suit-pants in the same color. His quirky but elegant fashion style was topped off with a beanie, which also had a band-logo stitched on it.

After the adults exchanged pleasantries, Daniel explained his business model. He wanted to give bands, especially newcomers a place to flourish, exchange techniques and ideas, to hangout and and practice. Some of the rooms were even able to record and mix their music.

Furthermore, Daniel told the parents, that it was set up to be a non-profit hobby of himself. The rent itself was only to be used to support this place, as well as the surplus would flow into new equipment.

He had even already planned public events: one he would call "The Musixan Standoff".

Nick could not have taken this opportunity to haggle for the price of course. This was one of many reminders that his con-artist-days were long gone. Daniel, though young, was a tough negotiating partner and had no intentions to lower his already fair prices. Maybe Nick could have succeeded, were it not for the pleading look he got from the kits. Not only did they weaken his will to walk away from the deal, also Daniel noticed the looks and used them to his advantage. He knew he could stand strong on his offer.

Eventually, Nick caved in and the contract was signed on the same day.

The last step was to haul the kits' equipment into their new 'practice apartment'.

From there on out, practicing together on Fridays and Saturdays became a permanent part of their weekly schedule. Of course, they would meet up there more than twice a week. It was their new hangout-place. They organized some chairs, a couch, an ashtray and a coffee-table for the second room. Sometimes they did their homework, other times they simply relaxed in this atmosphere. From time to time, either Charles or Baron scored a six pack of beer, which they shared together with the others. Daniel didn't even care if they smoked or not. Daniel's opinion was: 'Every artist has some kind of quirk or habit.' Besides, Daniel left them to their own most of the time. Metal-Music was not his most favourite style to say the least. He frequented other bands, who focused on old-school-rock or ska.

Daniel himself was not joking when he said, he is trying to help bands flourish. He helped distribute the merchandise and demo-CD's of some bands through the HiFi-Forge online shop, helped recording and mixing said CD's and took only a fee that would cover his own costs. No strings attached, no further contracts, no label-policies.

 **15** **th** **of October 2004, 6 p.m.**

 **HiFi-Forge, Zootopia**

It was a typical Friday evening. Typical if you consider the new weekly routine of our friends.

They agreed to play cover songs of their favorite songs at first. The self composing could wait until they felt ready.

From the start, everyone came up with one song they wanted to practice.

Tiberius wanted to play Metal Crue from the band Saberton. He just loved the thirty-seven band references in the song.  
Charles voted for St. Anger from Mawtallica, because the phrases from the lyrics meant more to him than he led on. One example was: "Saint Anger around my neck. He never gets respect," which was the opening line, the other example was: "And I want my anger to be healthy. And I want my anger just for me. And I need my anger not to control me. And I want my anger to be me."

Baron's contribution was nothing out of the ordinary. As the most rebellious kit, he brought Twi-Steed Sister with their cult-song 'We're not gonna take it' to the table.'

Francis wanted to play something from his recently found idol, Marilyn Muzzleson. His picks were either The Beautiful Mammals, Dope Hat or Tainted Love. Together with the others, he chose Tainted Love. With this, Lilith could really shine, since it had a bigger focus on synthesizer and keyboard.

The last one to choose a song was Lilith, who surprised them with her choice. Everyone expected something from the Power Metal genre, or something symphonic. But she chose Mammal-Slayer with 'Raining Blood'. "I'm not a typical girl, you guys should already know that," was her snappy answer after Mortimer voiced his surprise.

 _Cue Metallica -_

"Well done guys, but now I will do a quick break. I need a smoke now!" Charles stood up from the drumset after the outro of St. Anger.

"Can we play Raining Blood next? Mortimer and I can upload the thunder- and rain sound effects while you smoke," came the question from Lilith.

"Absolutely," Tiberius answered, "Baron, throw me the smokes."  
Baron laid down his bass-guitar and casually threw the pack to Tiberius, who caught it with his already raised paw.

Francis and Tiberius only unplugged their guitars and marched out, together with Charles. Lilith and Mortimer stayed and he already proceeded to connect his laptop with Lilith's keyboard.

Outside, in the lounge area of their practice room, Tiberius handed out smokes for Charles and gave Baron his pack back, while Charles gave the others a can of beer each. They scored their rations on their way from school to the HiFi-Forge. Charles laid down on the couch and started daydreaming. Baron sat on a chair opposite of him and scrolled through his phone, occasionally letting out snickers. From this, Charles could determine that he looked at funny pictures on the internet. Every time he looked at naked weasels-girls, he went absolutely quiet. He still tried to hide it, but it was a secret to no one, that the only two things he used his phone for was for funny pictures or erotica.

Meanwhile, Francis and Tiberius tried out their ridiculous 'acting.' They thought it would look extra cool, if they would synchronize their movements during the riffs of the next song, 'Raining Blood.' Tiberius wanted to choreograph their movements up to every headbang.

Ridiculous because today was the first day they would play that song together.

Now, with the added weight of choreography, they were bound to either fail their first dozen tries, or they would simply stop their acting. Charles' thoughts began to drift away.

"Whatever it might be, the fun and company was all that mattered anyway. Who cares if they took a month or a year to master a song? No one. And who would care if they made constant mistakes during their songs, a missed note here, a rhythm hiccup there? Exactly, not a single soul cared. They would simply restart the song, or focus solely on one part of it. It was as simple as that. No judges, no deadline, only music and friends..."

Suddenly he felt a tap to his shoulder.

"Hey, why do you have such big ears when you don't use them?"

"Wha?" Charles took a few moments to orient himself. After a quick shake of his head, he realised that Tiberius was standing next to him. He was the one who tapped his shoulder.

"What do you want?"

"The others are already back inside. I thought yer Majesty might want to join, if yer Majesty is not too busy snoozing."

"Cut it, or yer Majesty will show that pesky peasant where the turkey is taking its shit."

Both of the brothers snickered.

"I have something else I wanted to ask you."

"Well, you have my attention now. What do you have in mind, Tib?"

Tiberius' curved a devious smile on his muzzle.

"Our parents have night shift today. And it's friday. Aaaaand we have these new ID-cards."

"Color me intrigued."

"We send lil-Lilly home, we ask her kindly to give us an alibi, and we explore some of Zootopia's nightlife. What do you say?"

"What about the morning? Mom and Dad might smell that we drank."  
"Do you really think they would come look for us after a night shift? They will probably go to sleep straight away. They know we can be self sufficient. Heck, Lilly is probably more mature than we are."  
Now, a smile formed on Charles' face too.

"Not so sure with me, but she is definitely far more reasonable than you."

"Says the bunny, who got persuaded to go out with a fox, by a fox. So, is that a yes?"

Tiberius stretched out a paw towards his brother, who is still lying on the couch.

"You can bet your tail and knife for that."  
Charles grabbed his brothers' paw, who then proceeded to pull him to his feet.

"This will be the night of our lives Charly-boy. But now, let's go. The others want to start."

 _Cue Slayer - Raining Blood_

They practiced for about two hours. They had more success than anticipated, which was not still not a lot. Of course, Francis and Tiberius did their choreography for the first thirty minutes and gave it up afterwards. To be honest, it had a nice show effect, but was the worst of approaches to learn a new song. Concentrating on body movement, let them constantly fall out of sync. They may know the notes and their succession, but keeping the tempo constant with the others was too much. Additionally, the song was the hardest to add to their repertoire so far.

After those two hours, they could play most of the song together. The insane solo at the end was still far out of their reach, though. Even with their idea to let Lilith play the rhythm section on her keyboard with the electric-guitar-setting, while Tiberius and Francis concentrated on the solo together, they could not finish it a single time.

"Well, anyway, buddies, it's eight-thirty, this howling harbinger has to catch a train," Baron announced while pointing a finger to himself.

He unplugged his bass and put it on a self made stand; a little present from Charles. In fact, he hand-made all of the band's instrument stands during workshop class. Even a microphone-stand with adjustable joint and two telescope joints. Now, the only thing that was missing was a microphone and an amplifier, and they could even put voices in their cover songs.

"Yep, we will hit the road as well," said Francis as Mortimer packed up his laptop.

"Ok, awesome gig, see you tomorrow guys," said Charles, as he waved them goodbye.

"Aren't we going home too, bros?" Lilith was clearly confused why her brothers stopped in the lounge area after they cleaned up the beer cans and emptied the ashtray.

Charles looked at Tiberius, who focused his eyes on Lilith. He hoped that his brother would do the talking this time. He had no idea how to convince Lilith to give them an alibi without telling her what they had planned.

"We are going to drink."

Charles stared at his brother with an open maw. How could he blurt that out? Why would he do that?

"If you tell our parents tomorrow, that we were with you until you went to bed, you can listen to everything in our music collection. Given, if you handle the CDs with care."

"Sure thing, big bro. And Charlie? Close your mouth, or else flies get into it."  
Tiberius and Lilith started to laugh at their brothers stupor.

Tiberius put a paw on Charles' shoulder, still laughing.

"Your sister and I already agreed on the terms and conditions before I asked you. Sorry for that prank, brother."

After a few seconds, Charles joined in with the laughter.

"You got me good, Tib. And we are clear now, who is buying the first round."

Tiberius' laughter was silenced immediately.

"What?! Why should I buy?!"  
Charles didn't answer. He only smiled with a devious grin and clenched his paw into a fist, which made his knuckles crack a bit.

"Ok, ok, all right, I'm buying. You are a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yep, I do. Thank you, brother."

 **15** **th** **of October 2004, 10 p.m.**

 **Downtown, Zootopia**

The iron core of The Howling Harbingers walked around in downtown, especially the partystrip. The older teens were talking about this area of Zootopia constantly. It was the melting point for the many university students. Apparently, you could find students who were willing to make out on every corner, everyone would buy you drinks, the parties almost always ended up in some kind of fight and according to one guy, who knows a guy, who knows the cousin of that other guy, who lost his virginity in a bathroom stall in one of the bars here.

This would be their life, since The Howling Harbingers would be rockstars soon. Sex, Booze and Heavy Metal. All they had to do, is find that bar where this Joey Batsoney lost his virginity. But, as it always is with schoolyard stories, they were nothing more than stories. No kisses from willing biology-students, who might have been up for a more intense physical examination, no fight between drunkards and bouncers, not even simple demolition like they saw in the music video 'Whiskey in the Jar' from Mawtallica. They drank a beer on one bar, a second one in the next, and so they made their way down the Strip, but all they found where some civilized mammals, who mostly were involved in their own conversations.

The drinkers at the bar were also minding their own business.

"Dis blows!"

"Yu _**hic**_ yup, brotha. Not eeven a shingle gash wantsh to make out."

"That twatsh from hiigh schooool have no idea whats deys talkin abut."

"Hush, Sharles." Tiberius tried to stop his brother. He heard a familiar tune, coming from somewhere around here.

"Not even one _hic_ consservaations."

"Shush it, brotha."  
"Wha _hic_ ish it, busskill?"

"Jusht lishen."

Now, even Charles could hear the tunes. Familiar tunes.

 _Cue System of a Down - 'Toxicity'_

"Dat's System of a doe, and it comesh from…" He turned his ears, to find the source of those tunes. Suddenly, his ears stop and he begins to point at a bar. It was called Claws of Steel - Bar & Restaurant.

"There!"

As quickly as their state of mind allowed them, they made their way towards this bar.

This was their home for the rest of the evening, they decided, without voicing this thought aloud.

As they entered, the stench of cold smoke, old beer and sweat filled their nostrils. They saw mammals clothed in mostly black fabric, some with chains connecting the wallet to their belt, some wore rings with all kinds of skulls and other ornaments.

In the back, they saw a dart board, two pool tables and a pinball game, all of which were used by the bar's s.

Yes, this was the place they wanted to be.

Charles took a glimpse at what he presumed was the jukebox. Toxicity still played in the background but he wanted to know what was next on the playlist.

He tried to push the buttons but to no avail, the thing was dead.

"Over here, sweet-heart!"

He raised his head and looked from the jukebox towards the bar. The bartender, a middle-aged tigress, pointed towards a laptop, plugged into the bar's sound system

"That old thing hasn't worked in decades. I just keep it around for deco. If you want to choose a song, or get a drink, it's all over here, baby."

He looked sheepishly back to his brother. He only shrugged and they both sat themselves to the bar.

"Wee aaare getting... a beer each, aaaand..." Charles raised his finger to his muzzle to think.

"Panthera - five minutes alone, next in line."

"Two beer and an awesome song-choice, coming right up."

 _Cue Pantera - '5 Minutes Alone'_

The tigress changed the song immediately, then proceeded to pour them their beer.

A short time later, she put down the pints in front of them, along with three shot glasses.

"Whads dis?"  
"Pawlinka. A little gift for every new face in here."  
She raised the third glass towards them.

"You don't let me hang here alone with this, don't you? C'mon. Drink with this old tigress."

Reluctantly, both of the brothers took their glasses, all three cheered together, and everyone downed this chaser.

The reaction of the brothers were similar, both grimaced at the taste of their first hard alcohol. Tiberius even started to cough.

The tigres chuckled. "Yes, pawlinka is not for everyone, but so is heavy metal. I'm Caroline, by the way, but you can call me Carrie. And you two are?"

It took a few seconds for the brothers to react. Charles spoke up first. "I'm Sharlesh, but you can call me Hammer. And this is my bro… brest friend Tiberiush. Just call him dumb."

Charles earned a jab to his ribs for this, but the hearty laugh of Carrie was worth it.

"Yesh, itsh Fiberiush. Friendsh call me Nizzer."

"No one callss you that."  
"Sssshut up."

"You two are cute. If you two would look alike, I could mistake you for brothers. Anyway, I would love to keep talking with you, but I have guests I have to attend to. You just enjoy yourselves, ok?"

"Ok, Carrie," said both in unison.

This was answered by a coy wink over her shoulder from Caroline.

They both enjoyed the atmosphere, the free peanuts on the bar-counter, the loud, nearly shouting, but still friendly conversations, and of course, their beer.

But after they drank half of the pint, the pawlinka started to take effect.

"Sharlie, we neeed to _**burp**_ go."  
"Yesh, I knoow. Letsh shust pay and leafe."

They put a twenty-dollar note on the counter and stood up.

"Leaving already?" chimed the slightly disappointed tigres from the other side of the counter.

"Yeah _**hic**_ , we really need to go, shorry," Charles answered while he hooked his brothers arm around his neck. "He ishn't feeling well."

"Ok, come home safe and sober up. I hope to see you boys again soon."  
"Sure, Carrie, we love dis place."

So, they drunkenly staggered into the night.

As soon as they stepped out, Tiberius was slapped by the fresh air. His stomach churned, a wet burp could be heard and a blink of an eye later, Tiberius transferred the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.

Charles pulled his brother into the next alley, away from any watchful eye that might be around. In this alley, Charles let Tiberius sink to his paws and knees.

"Brotha, _ **urgh**_ thank youu for alwaysh being there." This was followed by more wet gurgling from Tiberius' throat.

All the while, Charles rubbed the back of his brother and answered: "Always, brotha, I will always be there."

"You promishe?"

"I promise!"

"Okeey, letsh go home then."

Charles hooked his brother up again, and they began staggering again.

A few blocks later, Tiberius broke the serenity again.

"You know, love you brotha. You are the most…" but his sentence was abrupted.

Behind them, headlights of a car came on, and sirens were whaling up shortly.

"Fuck, Tib. We are in sherioush trouble now."

"No, we arn't. We aare just some random citishens, enjoying the night. Keep your ID reaady and don't panic."

Both doors of the car opened and were closed forcefully shortly after.

The brothers could not see who just got out of the car, they were blinded by the car's headlights, but they heard eager tapping sounds of bare paws on the pavement.

And then it came.

"SWEET CHEESE AND CRACKERS!"

This sentence was all it took, to bring the brothers back to their senses. Adrenaline washed away any drunken state off their mind.

"May I panic now?" Charles whispered.

"Yes, you can." Tiberius answered.

Judy marched up to her boys. Her pace and posture revealed that she was packed to the brim with anger. Nick followed close behind her. His expression was grim, with a fair amount of disappointment mixed into it. He stood a bit behind his wife, with his arms crossed over his chest, while she gave the boys on of the biggest scoldings of their young life.

"Underage drinking? Not only that, but being fully intoxicated? What on earth where you thinking?"

"Mom, it's not what you…" Tiberius tried to speak up, but got silenced by Judy's ongoing scolding.

"Don't interrupt me, young man. You won't talk yourself out of this."

Even though, both brothers outgrew their mother since they were twelve and now towered her, they felt as tiny as shrews in front of her. They were too ashamed to look into Judy's eyes, so the only place they could look were the ground and their toes.

"I thought we have educated you better. What you did was egoistic and dumb. Imagine if one of our colleagues had picked you up. They would have brought you to the dry-out cell. Do you really want to ruin your future for beer?"

"No Mom," the boys answered in unison. Their voices were low and a bit trembling.

"And what about your sister? She is twelve for crying out loud. What if something happened to her while no one else is at home?"

The silence was crushing. Neither Charles nor Tiberius had thought about that. She often was too energetic for her own good. This brought some memories back, when Lilith was seven, and she tried to climb to the top drawer of the kitchen to reach the cookie jar. She slipped and hit her head, bringing her a laceration. With this in mind, Charles got a clutching feeling of fear in his guts.

"Get in the car," Nick pointed at the cruizer with his thumb. "We will bring you home now."

"Dad?" Charles looked towards his father with an apologetic expression.

"I will not repeat myself."

With hanging heads and shoulders, they made their way to the cruizer. They really did feel like criminals now.

As they were seated, they could see their parents talking. What was peculiar about this situation, is that Judy started to relax after Nick talked to her.

"You think this will get us grounded again?" Tiberius whispered to Charles.

"I think this time, it will be way worse. Now zip it, they are coming."

Charles did not care much about what happens to them. All he cared was the hope that their sister was alright.

"How could we leave her by herself so easily?" he thought to himself.

The drive back to the house was in silence. Crushing silence.

As they arrived, all four went into the house. The door was locked, windows were closed and all lights were off.

Nick unlocked the front door and went straight to Lilith's bedroom. With as much care and as silent as possible, he opened the door and peeked inside. Lilith slept peacefully. The only noises were Lilith's slow breathing and the humming of her CD-Player, which she forgot to turn off. Or rather, fell asleep while listening, so Nick snuck up to the device and switched it off.

On his way out, he closed the door as silent as he had opened it.

"Ok, boys. Clean yourselves up and go to bed immediately. We will talk in the morning."

The boys nodded and went to the bathroom, while Nick and Judy left the house to continue their night-shift.

The next morning, Charles and Tiberius were not woken by their alarm-clock. Actually, their clock wouldn't have chime for another three hours on a saturday. Their parents did.

After Judy's and Nick's night-shift, at 6 o'clock, they went straight back home to wake their boys.

The hangover was immense and neither Nick nor Judy lowered their voice to sooth the hammering headache.

As their punishment, they got grounded for a month plus a whole saturday of house work. All the while being tired and hungover.

But the worst of it was the disappointment they became to their parents, the look of sorrow on their faces. This was the real punishment.


	5. Chapter 4 - One last look

A/N:

Alright, long has it been. Sorry for the wait, real life just caught up to me.

To make up for it, this chapter is lengthy. (double as usual)

And, from now on, if I use a different OC in my fic, I will link him or her here. This was cut short the last few times. (I did over at Deviantart but still)

OptimusPower92 with his Char Oscar Drake  
DancingLunarWolves as Daniel Lunarus Wolve  
Koraru-san with her OC' Elliot Fanghanel

Again: once you see the keyword "cue", I advise you to take the time and watch the mentioned musicvideo.

And a big thank you to my betas and critics. I already mentioned Opti and DLW, so thank you DiaH20 as well for your constant support

So, let me know what you think, and enjoy the read

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – One last look**

 **19th of July 2006**

 **Paw &Hoof MMA-Sportsclub, Zootopia**

Seven…

Charles was panting heavily.

Eight…

His muscles ached, his bones were sore.

Nine…

As he pushed against the handles of the butterfly press, his tensed pectoralis started to quiver.

But he remembered his trainer's philosophy: "Every rep you do is just a warmup for the last. The last rep is the threshold. It's the place where champions are born. When your mind and soul have already finished the rep, your body only has to follow up."

So Charles put all his power and energy into this last push. His low growl gained volume as the handles of the weight-machine started to move slowly.

And there it came again. That little voice in his head. It called itself 'common sense' but Charles already knew better.

"Ah come on, you are only wasting your time. That last rep? You don't need it. You did well enough today. Call it quits, reward yourself with a protein shake and a nice hot shower. Maybe even a can of beer later."

Tempting it was, this mouthless voice. But Charles would not yield to it. He had more willpower than to cave in that quickly. If nothing else, this voice encouraged him to push himself beyond the pain nowadays. As long as he could remember, this pleading of his brain to find the path of least resistance, nestled in his thoughts whenever the going got rough, when he had to study for example.

But this period is over. No pain, no progress. With a yank, the handles of the machine were pushed together.

"TEN!" Charles exclaimed. He let go of the handles, which immediately snapped back into their resting position, allowing him to lay back into the cushion as he panted heavily.

His fur felt damp and somewhat sticky from all his sweat, but he was not ready to stand up just yet.

For a good minute, he just sat there and waited for the burning sensation in his pecs to subside. _NOW, I have earned myself that protein shake and the shower_ , he thought to himself as he slowly rose out of the machine and cleaned the cushion with his towel.

His next stop was the vending machine with the logo of the sport studio on it. It was a ram in a boxing pose with the name of the studio next to it: Paw&Hoof MMA-Sportsclub Zootopia.

It was Nick that suggested to Charles, that he should pick up some form of martial art for self defense. As Nick came to him with this proposal, the question about the promise had to follow.

"Boy, I wanted you to give me this promise after I saw what you did to that other kit back at the principal's office. You and your siblings are wonders of nature, but this also comes with some uncertainty. Your mother and I just feared that you couldn't control your anger next time. The other kit looked like he was attacked by a savage lion. When you learn a martial art, you have rules and referees.

You need to understand, that force sometimes is necessary. Every police officer learns it. But for an officer, it is to take down a criminal, not to attack in anger. This is what martial arts will teach you: self control."

And it did. The first thing he learned in this sports-club, aside from some basic grapples, defenses, and kicks was an old saying: 'It is better to be a warrior in a garden, than to be a gardener in war.'

The sports-club offered multiple classes for every category of fighter they had.

Speedballs focused on speed, endurance, and fast jabs. Their strategy was to tire out the opponent and send him to the mat with a few well placed jabs and kicks. Naturally fast and evasive mammals, like rabbits, were prone to this style.

The next category were Tech-Savvys, heavily relying on grapples and throws while disregarding any kind of punch. Most of the techniques utilized the weight and height of the opponent. The sequence was predictable but effective. First, the Savvy uses grapples to break his opponent's balance. Secondly, he chooses the appropriate throw from his repertoire. Thirdly, when the opponent was laying on the ground, the Savvy had a variety of moves to get his opponent to tap out. One infamous technique was the armbar. An armlock, which was basically inescapable. From this position, the Savvy only had to overstretch the opponents elbow-joint until he tapped out. Medium sized mammals like foxes and wolves usually chose this category, while hoofed mammals avoided it. You needed paws to get a good grip on your opponent.

The hoofed mammals, as well as the big guns like boars and bears had the natural affinity to get into the Broot-category. The reason and the fighting style are self explanatory: hard kicks and devastating punches. Kickboxing, regular boxing, and Muay Thai were the main styles for a Broot. They relied on strength rather than flexibility or intricate maneuvers. There were only a few frequently used moves, all of which had the purpose of taking down your opponent. Namely: the ram's head, the maulerball-spear, and the bear-hug-takedown.

For the first month, all newbies trained together. In these first four sessions, their abilities and strong points were evaluated. After the evaluation-phase, Charles had two options. Either be a big Speedball, or a small Broot. Naturally, he preferred the Broots. Ending a fight in a K.O. simply felt more awesome than winning matches by points to him. Besides, he could always work on his endurance, he didn't need a weekly course for that.

Charles was about to put a few coins into the vending machine when suddenly…

"Don't waste your money on that, kit!"

Charles' ears perked up in surprise.

"C'mere, Charlie, I'll mix ya one up for free. What flavor would ya like?"

"Thanks Doc Op," Charles answered with a smile. "Carrot and Blueberry flavor, like always."

"Yep, you are one weird fella with one weird taste," he murmured, followed by an enthusiastic, "One Orange-Blue, comin' right up."

Oscar 'Optimus' Drake, also known as Doc Op by the members of the club, was an oldtimer of a badger. The nickname came from his role here. First, he was a fighter himself.

According to rumors, he even fought alongside the famous buffalo Buddy Spencer, the bear Bearnold Schwarzenegger and the horse Sylvester Stallione. After he got his kneecap shattered in a match, he chose to become an active trainer and nowadays, technically being retired, his task is to mend injuries of the athletes.

"I thought you were gone for today," said Charles as he came to the counter where Oscar was mixing his shake.

"Welp, as ya see, yar thoughts are short and yar hair is wrong," Oscar said chuckling.

Shortly after, he put the mug with protein shake in front of Charles.

"How 'bout ya? Why rn't ya at home already?"

Excitedly, Charles began to explain, "Because of my match on Saturday. I want to squeeze as much workout in as I possibly can until then. Tomorrow I want to give the speed bag a beating and then…"

He was interrupted by a swift hand gesture from Oscar: "Wrong, wrong, wrong, Kit! Yar match is in three days. What ya need to do is ta rest. Take the advice of an ol' veter'n. Ya don't wanna show up tired out in the ring."

While Oscar was sharing his wisdom, Charles took the opportunity to gulp down his shake, still attentive of the story.

As the old badger finished, Charles set down his now half-empty mug."What do you suggest I should do then, Doc?"

"Easy, ya treat yarself well, eat like a berserk and prepare ya grey matter," he said, with a wink. The last part was emphasised by an index-claw from the badger to the bunny's forehead.

"What I mean is, ya body is ready, now yar mind needs ta be ready as well."

"And how do I do that?"

"Welp, ya think about yar sparing. Whaddaya do wrong, whaddaya do right. Run down all of yar routines inside yar head, all of 'em, over and over."

"That's it?" Charles asked curiously before taking another big swig from his mug.

"That's it, Kit. Oh, and of course, do yar warm upwarmup, thirty min'its before ya step into tha ring."

Charles set down the mug after he swallowed the last sip with an exhale of delight. "Thanks Doc. For the advice and the shake."

"Sure thing, Kit."

Slowly, the Bunny-Broot took two steps towards the changing room as he stopped in his tracks. "One more thing, Oldtimer."

The Badger, which was already turned to the sink to wash the freshly used mug, turned his head towards Charles. "What else do ya need, Kit?"

"I was wondering, what is it with you and your name?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, really. But why Op? I would understand Doc Os, or Doc Oc, but Op?"

"Ahhh, that's where ya headnin'. Ya younglings really have no tooth for history. Back in the good ol' times, when all of the fightin' was just coming from the underground of Zootopia and into the public eye, ya had ta have a name. Somethin' that mammals would remember ya by. Buddy called himself Bulldozer, Bearnold was The Termination, Sylvester chose Rambow and mahself, I was Optimus…"

' _No way on earth had this guy trained with the famous Buddy and Sylvester,'_ Charles thought as he listened to the story. _'But I will let this crazy guy have his moment_ _.'_

Oscar's ramblings went on for fifteen-something more minutes, tales about matches, hours in the gym, how his presumable friends came to fame and glamour while he kept his simple and humble life.

Charles was still in no way convinced that Oscar knew those three bedrocks of the Martial Arts Community, or that Oscar simply stepped away from his own chance of living the life of the rich and famous. He toyed around with the thought of pressing these matters further, but was ultimately discouraged by Oscar's voice, so full of melancholy. Maybe Oscar wished this life for himself so much that he lives this broken dream in his fantasy. Maybe he's close to alzheimers and confuses these wishes with reality. Or maybe, just maybe, there's a grain of truth in it, and he just misses his brothers in the ring. Whatever it might be, Charles let Oscar live in this moment.

Even if Oscar was intentionally bullshitting him for some shits and giggles, what good would it bring to confront the matter anyway?

"Ah look at this ol' bloke ramblin' yar young life away. Go now, shush shush, yar fam'ly is surely waitin' for ya a'ready."

Charles politely bid his farewell, and made his way to the locker room to take a shower.

After the young buck, went out of sight, Oscar reached under the counter to grab a steel cassette and unlocked it. In it, alongside some spare change and some other random papers, was a picture. On it, there was a bear with scruffy overgrown hair, a massive hunk of a buffalo, a stallion with a red bandana and a young badger with a gold and black belt around his shoulder. The fresh bruises on his muzzle told the story of the match that ended just a few seconds before the picture was taken.

The three taller mammals carried the badger off the stage on their shoulders. Oscar looked at the picture for a long time, before turning it over to read the message that was on this side:

"B.O.S.S. A Huzzah for a good fight. A Huzzah for a clean win." followed by four signatures.

"I miss you guys," Oscar said into the empty gym, before storing his most valuable possession back into the cassette.

The hot shower was an absolute necessity. Once Charles massaged the hot water and the shampoo into his fur, he felt his burning muscles ease up. It took about ten minutes to reach all of the aching spots on his toned body, followed by some more minutes of silent serenity. He put his paws on the walls of the shower to let the water run over his back as he was reflecting Oscar's hints.

It was true, what the old badger said. He needed to prepare himself mentally for the match. While Charles' attacks were quick and coordinated, his defense and reaction time were sluggish. His blocks needed to come as quick as his jabs. He could practice his blocks tomorrow, maybe after the meetup with his band. He also had a task with them, which definitely needed to be done before the fight.

' _Yep, time is running short. I definitely don't have as much time now as I had just a year back,'_ he thought.

As he felt that he soaked up enough, he flicked the heat control lever to its lowest setting, a little ritual he picked up when he joined the MMA-Club. Almost instantly, the water turned to a discomforting cold temperature, which he savoured for the next few minutes.

One of the older members told him that the switch from hot to cold would boost his circulation and strengthen his immune system.

He didn't bother to dry his fur with the hot air dryer. In the colder months of the year, he would definitely take his time there, but it was a mellow summer evening today, so he just dried with a towel, got his clothes on, and headed home.

 **20th of July 2006 11:40 a.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

The house was filled with a delicious scent. The scent of chicken fajita for the Judy's three boys and an ensemble of grilled vegetables, sizzling in the pans for the two womammals of the residence.

Judy chuckled at her own thoughts. Of course, Tiberius and Charles were adolescents, but close to be adults. Somewhere in between her little man-mals, and her big boys.

' _Aw, who am I kidding? They will always be my little boys, no matter old they will get,'_ she thought, smiling as she stirred the vegetables in the pan.

This was when two big paws were laid over over here eyes and a muzzle nestled itself between her ears.

"Guess who," the voice between her ears chimed in an overly happy tune.

Yes, there were definitely three boys in her household. Nick often was so childish, he really was a kit at heart.

"Oh is it Pedro, the pool boy from next door? If not, I would be sooo disappointed."

Judy let this little mental jab stay between them for a good second before she continued: "Or is it that handsome red devil I married, and who I love with all my heart?"

Without waiting for a response, she looked up and put a gentle kiss on Nick's muzzle, before swatting his paws away and returning her attention towards the preparation of lunch.

Nick immediately and placed his paws on her hips. This was such a natural move for him after all these years, that it was basically a subconscious decision.

"Close call, Carrots. I didn't know you were fishing for the young carps when you already have the great white shark at home. Do I need to worry?"

"Of course not, my King of the Ocean."

In this moment, Lilith chimed in with a disgusted tone in her voice, "Uuurgh, stop it, you two. You are embarrassing me, like, absolutely. Yuck!"

This brought a chuckle from Nick. He knew exactly how she felt. No teenager wanted to see this kind of affection of their parents. And to be honest, Nick would have taken Judy right here and now, if it wasn't for their kits. They did that countless times and, if Nick remembered correctly, this is how Charles and Tiberius 'happened'.

"Where are your brothers, sweetie?" Nick asked his daughter while he let go of his wife.

"In the garage, working on the bike," Lilith answered immediately.

"This damn bike," Judy spouted out. "Be a dear and call them in, lunch will be ready soon."

"Of course, Mom." With these words, Lilith ran out to gather her brothers.

"I hate that motorcycle, those things are so dangerous," Judy said to Nick.

"I agree. But you have to give them this, they hustled us good with it."

"You sound like you are proud of them."

"Well, it takes smarts to hustle a hustler."

"Huh, I wonder where they got that gene from." This statement awarded Judy with a disapproving glare from Nick.

And the boys did hustle their parents good with the motorcycle. They knew they would never approve to get them a bike, especially not a Pawrley Davidson. These fascinated Charles since he saw a group of bikers on the journey in Clearwater.

The scheme the two boys planned was simple, but risky at the same time.

The idea came from Tiberius, of course. He learned that there was a strategy to manipulate mammals easily. Just ask them to help you with an enormous task, to which they will disagree. Afterwards, you ask them for the actual, small favour, and the other mammal would agree more easily.

So, in early October of 2005, Charles started to constantly ask his parents for a Pawrley for his birthday. He knew this was far out of any price range. He also knew that, by law, you were allowed to get a driver's-licence by the age of sixteen in Zootopia and this also included motorcycles.

By December he had softened them up to make a deal. Nick and Judy agreed to pay for the drivers licence only. _'No way, Charles could afford any motorcycle with his allowance, not even speaking of a Pawrley,'_ they thought.

But they didn't take Baron into account.

Of course, by now they knew that their kits were friends with a kit of a criminal. They also knew that Baron was not living with his father anymore, which they were glad about.

What they didn't know was the fact that Baron left school and scored a job at the junkyard. Well, it was more of a vehicle graveyard where they would scavenge and resell useable spare-parts.

Baron agreed to repair one of the cruiser bikes and sell it to Charles for a cheap price.

In the end, the price was fair enough, since the cruiser was not more than a bucket of rust, but it drove and this was all that mattered.

Most of the parts were better to be replaced entirely. For example, the gears didn't interlock properly anymore, the chain always looked like it was dragged through mud, and the engine misfired quite frequently. These misfires always exhausted a giant puff of thick, black smoke during their, not so legal, testrounds on the junkyard.

Unfortunately, those parts were expensive to replace and Charles was nearly broke. His knowledge, the rest of his funds, as well as the sparse selection of tools from his father, were just enough for one little modification. During the first month of owning his bike, he gathered some materials for an attachable sidecar to the cruiser. Some steel pipes, metal sheets, a seat with a seatbelt and an old wheel with bearings were all that he needed. Most of the materials were bought legally. The rest were acquired in a different manner.

In a few short days, the materials were gathered. Afterwards, with an angle grinder, a blowtorch, an assortment of hammers and fork keys, and a vice at his disposal and armed with a box of beer, as well as a pack of smokes, Charles and Tiberius started the construction.

Charles learned how to use tools during his two years in technical high school, but he didn't know how crafty he could be when his passion sparked. Together, they managed to build a solid and stylish looking sidecar. It even got a pass on the registration from the DMV. The fact that Flash knew Nick's kits may helped them a little though.

Tiberius knew that his father had let the sloth off the hook quite some times, so they asked for one of the accumulated favors. Nick was not privy at it, of course, but what he didn't know would not anger him.

However, they criticised the whole condition of the bike, which came as no surprise in the slightest.

The next tasks at paw were getting rid of the rust and finding the reason for the misfiring engine. Derusting, spray painting, and polishing took the majority of time for the two of them. Especially since Charles was particularly strict during this process. It seemed to Tiberius that he wanted to see his reflection on everything, not only the chromed parts.

Today, they wanted to take care of the misfires.

After consulting the internet, they found a possible solution. A defect spark plug seemed to be the most obvious reason.

Charles was lying under the bike while Tiberius stood aside to read out the instructions to get to the plugs from his phone. "Do you see the bolt next to the engine block?"

"Yes I do."

"Ok, wait up," Tiberius looked at the instructions again. "It says here to open the bolt…" He paused while Charles pried the bolt open. "... to drain the oil."

"WHA!" Charles' exclamation of surprise was muffled by the flood of deep black motor-oil that poured all over his face.

Tiberius had to lean over from the laugh-flash he got from his own prank. A few seconds later, Charles crawled out from under the bike and wiped most of the grimy oil out of his eyes to take aim with the wrench in his paw. The clattering of the tool hitting the wall, a few inches away from Tiberius killed his laughter instantly. Just as Charles intended.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" Tiberius spouted towards his brother.

Charles spit out some oil that happened to enter his mouth before he could answer: "Don't be a baby. If I wanted to hit you, I would have. Besides, a little shock can do wonders for slow brains. Maybe you won't read as slow as a retard next time. You owe me a smoke for this."

With an extended arm, Charles ushered an immediate reaction from Tiberius. Tiberius complied and handed him the pack, after taking a cigarette out of himself.

"Here, choke on it, you prick. And don't light yourself on fire."

"You will choke on a prick."

Charles took a cloth scrap from the nearby workbench and wiped most of the thick slick out of his face before lighting the cigarette. _'To get all of this out, I need to shower for hours,'_ he thought after putting away the, now brownish-black, cloth.

They both smoked in silence for a while. This silence was broken by Lilith, who came into the garage, in her usual bouncy way. "Hey bros, lunch is… holy crap, Charlie, what happened to you?"

She started to smile, then chuckle and finally, she bursts into laughter, just as Tiberius did earlier. A low growl escaped Charles' throat. He threw his cigarette but to the ground, stepped in the glowing tip to put it out and marched towards his sister.

Swiftly, he grabbed her neck into a headlock. Her laughter turned into squirming and squealing almost instantly. "It's funny when your big bro is all dirty huh? Well, we will see how funny it is when silly Lilly tastes some of that oil too, won't we?"

"NOOO! Please let me go! Please I didn't mean to..."

All her apologies were in vain. Charles noggied his dirty knuckles on her skull, playfully enough to not hurt his sister, but enough to rub some of the grime into her headfur. Charles could not hurt his siblings, but humiliation was always answered by humiliation between them.

After Charles let her go, she stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, shooting daggers at him, her cheeks puffed in anger. "I hate you, you big dork."

"I hate you too, but I keep you around because your fur is an excellent towel," Charles answered with a smile, "besides, I know that your boyfriend won't mind you getting down and dirty."

Lilith stuck her tongue out with a 'Bleh'-sound before turning around to get back inside. At the door, she found another way to mock her brother. "At least I have someone. I haven't seen you with a girl lately. In fact, I have never seen one around here for you."

' _Oh, that little devil,'_ Charles thought again as he clenched his paw into a fist. This teasing hit the right spot. He never had the nitty gritty with a girl, and his hormones demanded him, that having this nitty gritty was the most important goal in life. The only thing he got was making out with a bunny-girl behind the viewer platform at the school's mauler-ball field.

That's when he felt a paw on his shoulder and his brother's voice: "Don't worry man, we will find you someone. You might not see it, but the gals are circling you. You just have to see that and learn to not fuck up all the time."

"Easy for you to say, Mister Sweet-Talk-Heart-Breaker. Besides, I would rather have a thousand adventures with one lady, than one adventure with a thousand gashes. Or in your case, being a man-bitch with multiple STD's."

Tiberius smiled and answered: "Compliments won't make me teach you anything. Let's go, lunch surely is ready by now."

Lunch went by, so did the repair of the misfiring motor. As a matter of fact, there were two spark-plugs, one had to be replaced, the other just had to be cleaned. The shower, following the repairs didn't take as long as Charles had anticipated. He just had to go in deep with the shower brush, which was rendered unusable for all eternity by this. Never would this thing be clean again.

When he was almost finished with drying up, he heard a knock on the bathroom-door.

Muffled, the voice of Tiberius could be heard: "Come on, we gotta go. We have a recording, remember?"

"It was your fault, dumbass. Remember?"

"Aw come on, I don't want to be late."

"Neither do I, but if we do, everyone will know it's your fault."

"Fine, be that way!"

"Ah, I'm kidding! I'm almost done. Now, leave me."

"Dipshit! Me and Lily will wait in the living room."

"It's Lily and me, Dumbass. You should know that, Silvertongue."

With this, Tiberius wandered off into the living room. Charles thought he heard some muffled, frustrated mutters through the door. It took only a mere five more minutes to finish up anyway. He stepped out of the bathroom, towards the front door, and stopped by the living room.

"Come on, let's go," he chimed to his siblings and gave a "Bye mom, bye dad," to his parents, which were also present in the room.

"Please be careful Charles… And don't forget your helmet!" Judy demanded.

"Uuugh, yes Mom!" Charles grunted in light annoyance. He was a good driver and he knew it. At times, she was really overbearing.

"Listen to your mother. You don't want to catch your dinner between your teeth now, do you?" Nick asked in a mocking tone.

This was when Tiberius chimed in, who was already standing next to his brother: "Mom, you should worry about me. Charles' skull is thick enough to go through walls, but my head holds a jewel!"

This earned him a chuckle from Lilith and a rather hard nudge on the shoulder from Charles.

The troop made their way outside, after stopping in the anteroom to grab their respective helmets.

Outside, everyone got into their designated seat. Tiberius took his place in the sidecar, Charles was behind the handle bars and Lilith took the seat behind him, holding onto grips on the backside of the motorcycle.

Charles started the beast, gave it two good revs, and drove off towards the HiFi-Forge.

Halfway there, they came to a red light at a crossing and Charles hit the brakes to come to a full-stop. As the light turned back to green, he tried to hit the gas again. Unfortunately, the bike would not move an inch.

"What's wrong, idiot? It won't get any greener," Tiberius mocked his brother.

"Shut it, Airhead. Something's wrong, can't you tell?"

"I am well aware. But seriously though, what's the problem?"

"If I knew, I would tell you. It feels like the bike got booted."

Behind them, the first cars started to honk their horns. Charles looked back at the driver behind him with a mixed expression between anger and annoyance as he flipped the mammal off before they proceeded to pass him.

"Guys, we should get out of the way, at least. Let's bring the machine to the sidewalk and then have a look," Lilith proposed.

As more cars started to pass them to still catch the green light, Charles tried to manually roll his motorcycle towards the sidewalk. But again, it would not budge.

"Tib, help me out here, you grab her front and I get the rear. We have to get her off the road. And Lily, get off. We don't need your extra weight."

"Her? Are you that desperate?"

Charles swatted the back of Tiberius' helmet and answered: "Bikes are always femammals, you uncultured fuck! Now, get off."

With a seesaw movement, wherein Tiberius lifted the bike's front and shoved it a step to the left, followed by Charles, who did the same with the rear, the brothers managed to get the bike as close to the sidewalk as possible. The reason for the strange acting of the bike was found rather quickly: the brakes were totally locked down on the front wheel, even though the lever on the handle was fully released.

"Fucking dammit! The brakes are trashed," Charles exclaimed loudly.

"What now? We can't be late to our recording. It's the most important step for the Harbingers," asked Tiberius.

"That is not the problem, doofus. I can pry the shoes open, even without tools. I had that once, while trying her out at the junkyard."

"So… what is the freaking problem then, huh? Pry it open and we get to work back at home."

"The problem is, that I need a new brake system. There is nothing to save in the old one. And those things are expensive. Plus, I am broke. My last few coins went into the spark plugs."

"Big bro, I might have an idea to solve this. I just need to think about that a bit. Now, would you kindly open 'her' shackles again?" Tiberius winked mischievously to Charles at the mention of an idea.

Charles huffed and started to unclamp the brake shoes. He started by rapidly pulling and releasing the lever, before giving the shoes a firm but well-aimed kick, followed by more pulls on the lever. Soon enough, with a horrible screeching sound, as metal grinded onto metal, the clamping force subsided and the wheel was free again.

"Ok… well… from now on, I can only slow down by switching to a lower gear… FAN-fuckin-TASTIC!"

Charles swung himself back on the bike, and motioned his siblings to do the same.

Before he started the engine, he said: "And NO word to mom and dad. They don't need to know that Michelle is not ready for the road just yet."

"Michelle? Really?" The chuckle that started to form in Tiberius' throat was quickly suffocated from the daggers that Charles glared at him.

"I am THIS close," Charles formed a teeny-tiny space between his index finger and his thumb, "to losing my shit, brother. One more word, and I unlatch the sidecar while we are doing seventy, I swear!"

Without waiting for an answer, Charles turned the gas handle and the machine started moving again.

 **20th of July 2006 6:20 p.m.**

 **HiFi-Forge, Zootopia**

With a twenty-minute delay, the Wilde-Hopps-Crew arrived at the parking lot of the Forge. Baron and Francis threw their cigarette-buds onto the asphalt as they saw them arrive.

"Ok, first: Where were you?" Baron asked in a barsh tone.

Tiberius opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted by Baron: "Secondly: I don't care. Save your excuse for Daniel. Let's go already."

He was right. Daniel, the owner of the Forge, gave them a one-time opportunity. He was willing to listen to one of their songs. If he liked it, they could record their demo-album and one or two singles in Daniel's personal studio, as well as free-of-charge promotion from Daniel himself.

To let this gift slip was close to heresy, so they made a mad dash for their apartment.

As they finally stood, wheezing in the first room of the parted practice room they were met by a harsh greeting from Daniel.

"Finally, the three frontmammals chose to show up. Let me say this once, and only once. I am a busy mammal, and I do not like waiting."

"We are sorry… _wheeze_ we get… _wheeze_ … right to it." Charles replied and made his way to the room where the instruments were.

Everyone took their stand. Lilith got behind her keyboard, Tiberius flung the guitar-strap around his neck, Baron took his bass-guitar and Francis got behind the drumset and Charles grabbed the second guitar. Next, Lilith, Tiberius and Charles adjusted their microphone-stands.

About a year ago, shortly after the band had purchased the microphones, they made some changes regarding the bands composition. Everyone had a go at the microphones for fun. The idea to give Mortimer a significant role in the band failed miserably. Even with amplification, his voice was in no way fit for a Heavy-Metal band. It was to flimsy and weak. Lilith on the other hand, had a clear, loud and very feminine voice.

With Tiberius, the band had a similar experience. Clean, strong and melodic. Francis was considered as a singer as well, even though his vocals was too nasally. After a long period of asking and pleading, Charles got to the mic. His 'singing' was unbearable, and he got made fun for because of it.

This was the moment when he shouted "Fuck you, guys!" into the mic. The sound that escaped his throat was loud, guttural and aggressive. It was so spontaneous that everybody in the room became jumpy. For a good five seconds, you could have heard a pinpoint hitting the ground.

"Do thaaat again," Francis requested, after he found his words again.

"Do what?" Charles asked.

"THAT! Whatever you just did," Tiberius ushered him onwards.

Charles complied and showed to them and himself, that this shout was not a lucky accident.

The path for the band was clear from there on out. Francis would get his hoofs behind the drumset Charles would learn to play the guitar, as well as being one of the three frontmammals.

With this composition, they were ready to record their first demo on this day. Given that Daniel actually liked the song they will show them.

 _Cue Amaranthe - Maximise_

During all the song's playtime, Daniel stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and watched them with a blank expression. Even a few endless seconds after the last note was played, Daniel remained motionless.

The band felt devastated by this silence as they took it as harsh criticism.

Finally, Daniel put his paws in this pant pockets and slowly headed towards the exit of the practice room. Arriving at the door, he put his paw on the door handle and looked back at them.

"Come on, we will record your demo in my private studio. To be honest, the equipment here is too crappy to do your music justice. That is, if you have more songs like this."

"Yeah, of course we do!" Lilith exclaimed by almost jumping towards Daniel and the door.

The private recording room was amazing. The drumset was from the brand Bearl, it had two kick drums, seven tomtoms, four of which were mounted on the kicks and three on the floor and a multitude on cymbals, all varying in form and sound. For the untrained eye, this set looked like a clusterfuck, but Charles and Francis knew better. Every part was in perfect pawlength from the seat.

The bass-and-electric guitars, even a Fennec Stratocaster and a Les Maul where among them, were stored neatly in a rack to the side, the two keyboards in the room were YagiSaru's and were arranged in a double-decker fashion.

The back wall was decorated with towering amplifiers from a variety of manufacturers, while the floor in front of them littered with all sorts of pedals. The view was topped off by the noise cancelling foam, which covered every wall.

The quintet of musicians stared in awe, unable to move a single muscle. It was every string-twanger's, every key-jingler's, every beat-beater's dream to own such a practice room.

As this moment subsided, everyone of them got to his respective instrument. Tiberius grabbed a guitar from the rack and nearly dropped it as Daniel called out.

"Please be careful with that. Kirk Hammel gave it to me."

With a staggering voice, Tiberius asked: "Ki-Kirk Hammel? THE Mawtallica Kirk Hammel?"

"The one and only," Daniel answered with a smirk on his muzzle.

"I-I… Wow!..." Tiberius was totally lost in his stupor. He could only stare at the instrument until Charles nudged him. Everyone, except him got ready to rumble while he zoned out.

In a matter of seconds, Tiberius strapped the guitar around his shoulders and plugged it into one of the amplifiers.

"Ok, freshlings, time for a soundcheck. First I want to hear the drums," cided Daniel's voice from some speakers into the practice room.

Daniel himself and Mortimer were in the adjacent room where the recording equipment was installed.

"Umm… Mister Wolve?" Mortimer asked shyly.

"Call me Dan, would you? I feel like old folks with all those formalities."

"Oh, sorry Mister Dan."

Daniel scoffed with a smile, while rolling his eyes over. "What is it, freshling?"

"Wou-Would you show me how to do a proper recording?"

Daniel thought for a short while, then shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not? I could use a helping paw around here anyway. Ok, you see the green bar flashing?" Daniel pointed at a screen in front of them. There was in fact a green bar, labeled as 'Input 1' twitching in the rhythm of Francis' hits on the snare drum.

Mortimer nodded.

Daniel continued to explain as he pointed at the mixer below the screen: "With this slider, we bring the volume down to the middle. We don't want any input to overmodulate, so we bring one input after the other into balance. Once we do that, we see which inputs need to sound more crisp."

The recording took longer than any kit of the group imagined. They thought they would walk in, play their songs, and be done with it. This could not be further from the truth. Firstly, the soundcheck took a good while, then they did the initial recording.

Everyone played together as they were used to. Afterwards, Daniel told them to play separately with headphones and the initial recording as backup. He accepted no slip-up in this stage. Everyone would play his line until they got it down perfectly. They repeated this procedure for every song they wanted to be taped down on their demo-album.

As half past ten rolled around, they recorded their four songs, the siblings received about one hundred phone calls and a few dozen voice mails, ranging from worried, to angry and swinging back to worried. That was an exaggeration, true, but it definitely felt like this for the teenagers.

They called their parents, apologized for silencing their phones and hurried home. The ride was smooth. No red lights, almost no traffic and not even a single stutter came from the engine block of 'Michelle'.

 **22th of July 2006 7:55 p.m.**

 **Roo-Kang Arena, Zootopia**

"Hold yer paw still. I can't wrap it up if yer gonna keep on shakin' it tha' way," Oscar grunted as he tried to wrap Charles' paw in boxing bandages.

"I'm sorry, Doc. I'm just so nervous."

"Erryone is before his first figh'. Just hol' still."

"But is everything ready? Did the announcer get my entry song?"

"Yup."

"When do I walk in?"

"When your song starts playing."

"What if I go down in the first round? I don't want to embarrass mys…"

Oscar stopped his task and looked into Charles' eyes with a stern expression.

"Nothin'. Noon's gonna hold it against ya. Ya won' be embarrasin' yerself here, this is rookie league. Besides, ya will kick tha' whimp's ass. Ya understand me?"

Charles nodded. He really needed this little pep-talk, even though it only shifted the nervous jittering from his paws down to his left hind paw which thumbed like his mother would do when she was aggravated.

"A'ight," Oscar said and continued wrapping the paw in the boxing bandages.

Shortly after, Charles had his half finger gloves on and stood in front of the arch way that lead through an alley of watchers and the ring.

"AAAAAND AS HIS OPPONENT, WE HAVE A NEWCOMER IN THE RING. CHAAAAAAARLES 'HAMMER' WILDE-HOOOOOOPPS," the voice of the announcer echoed into his ears and his entrance song started playing:

 _Cue Amaranthe - Drop Dead Cynical_

"Yer call, boy," Oscar said to him, with a pat on the back.

As Charles entered the alley, he was surprised. There were not as many watchers as there would have been during a fight between professionals, but the number was still almost overwhelming for him.

This was when he realised he had no idea what to do for his entry. He saw others do a signature move while walking towards the ring, but his mind went blank for long enough to make it uncomfortable.

In the lack of a better idea, he raised his left arm up sideways, bent his elbow upwards and clenched his gloved paw into a fist before simply walking towards the arena. He also switched his expression from fearful to filled with determination and a tad bit of anger. He knew, that intimidation was already half of the fight.

Once in the ring, Charles and his opponent, a mongoose with the name Retch Gustener, did the traditional boxing pawbump before both took in their fighting stance.

Round one was announced and both adversaries started going at each other.

Charles opened with a series jabbs but could not land any, as Retch was a speedballer. He dodged every hit with finesse before ducking under one of them and punching Charles in his ribs, effectively ending Charles' moves and forcing him into defense.

A few hits connected, some could be blocked by Charles' fists. Retch definitely had the upper hand in this first round. Soon enough, Charles' was pushed into the ring ropes and the referee had to break them up.

As soon as the referee took a step away from in between them, Retch started his assault again, now switching to a strategy of mid-kicks. Charles was able to block the first two, and caught Retch's leg between his upper arm and upper body, giving him the opportunity to counterattack. His free fist connected wonderfully with the Retch's muzzle. The next move was to get a step closer and bring Retch out of balance. Charles managed to pull it off, slamming his opponent on the ground, with himself on top. The ground combat was short before the referee broke them up again, but Charles could still land a few punches on Retch's snout.

The bell rang, and round one was over.

Charles was sitting in his corner, while Oscar came into the ring to check him up, plus giving him water and further tips. "A'ight boy, don't let 'im pressure ya. He's no good at blockin'. Giv' 'im yer piece of mind."

The bell rang again, announcing round two.

Charles tried to take the advise at heart and started by throwing himself at Retch.

His mistake was to totally ignore his own cover. A few counters later, Charles found himself in the same situation as in round one. Retch feinted a low kick, which was answered by a low block from Charles. This was a fatal mistake as it opened an opportunity for Retch.  
He jumped up, and gave Charles a sweep kick into the side of his skull, leaving Charles tumbling towards the ground.

Retch did not choose to go back again into a ground combat. He banked on a K.O. from Charles, which did not happen just now. This kick hit Charles' cheek with enough force for his own teeth to bite hard into the side of his mouth.

Luckily, he was saved by the bell.

Once he sat in his corner again, Oscar was ready with a bucket so Charles could spit out some blood.

"Are ya ready to go on, boy?"

"Sure Doc."

"Then, arms up. He'll surely try tha' again. Ya need ta be ready for tha'."

"Thanks Doc."

Round three was announced by another ring of the bell.

Retch kept to his kicking strategy. Blocking those, Charles stood as close as he could, to lessen the impact of the blows. Then, he saw his opportunity. Retch lowered one of his fists, as he wound up his body for another high kick and Charles aimed a jab in this opening. The impact of this surprising resistance caught his opponent off-guard, opening him up for another jab, followed by a devastating uppercut. Unfortunately, this was not enough to send Retch onto the ground this time. He tumbled just a few steps backwards, shook his head and took a running start towards Charles again.

This time, Charles could guess what was coming next, the same type of kick from earlier, aimed for his head. Almost as by instinct, he took a step towards the hind paw's trajectory and rose his arm for another block.

As the mongoose's leg connected with Charles' forearm, he could feel a faint crunch at the impact spot. Not minding this, he extended his free paw towards Retch's muzzle again, which was contorted in a grimace of pain. This hit missed, since Retch was already going down.

Charles did not know how to react, even after Retch's trainer ran into the ring. The trainer threw the towel and carried out his fighter. This was the moment Charles saw the twisted ankle of his opponent, offering a bizarre view to the hindpaw which was dangling somewhat loosely from the leg.

Charles stood in the middle of the ring, totally lost. Was he disqualified now? What is next? Did he do something against the rules? His paw was grabbed, which ripped him out of his stupor. He looked to his right, where the announcer grabbed him, then to the left where Oscar stood, looking… proud?

"AAAAAND AFTER THE THIIIIRD ROUND, WINNING HIS FIRST FIGHT BY TECHNICAL KAAY OOUUH… IS CHAAAAARLES HAMMER WILDE-HOOOOOPS!"

The announcer jerked Charles' arm upwards and the crowd started to cheer. Pride now filled him too, so Charles raised his other paw and smiled into the commotion that was unfolding all around him.

 **28th of July 2006 10:48 a.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

Charles woke up late. He loved to sleep in on weekends and holidays like every teenager does. As he woke, a sharp sting hit his eye. Immediately, he grabbed his aviators from the night stand and put them on to conceal the black eye, he received during his match. The small bruises here and there healed rather quickly, but the black eye seemed too stubborn to vanish.

He groaned a low "Mornin'," towards his brother, who was already awake and swiped away on his phone.

Tiberius waved back lazily, without taking his concentration off the phone. Charles went to the bathroom to do his 'morning' routine, taking a leak, brushing his teeth, getting some gulps of water and wash the sleep out of his eyes and face.

Next step, on this routine, was to go back to the room and pass the time until lunch was ready. Either this, or wait until twelve o'clock and warm up some leftovers, if their parents were on duty.

Life was good, no obligations, no responsibility, no appointments.

As he re-entered the room, Tiberius lost no second to grab his attention. "Hey, King of the ring. Have a minute?"

"Well, it's not like I can drive away or something."

At this remark, a fang-baring grin crept up Tiberius' muzzle. "This is where I need your minute for. I said I'd come up with an idea to fix our currency-issue and with it, our vehicle issue."

Charles looked at his brother and noticed his expression as he sat down on the bed on his side of the room. "I have a bad feeling about this already. Please elaborate," he gestured for his brother to continue.

"Well, I was reading some articles about how some mammals came up with techniques to lure potential customers into buying their wares."

"Aaaaaand, what exactly are we selling?"

Tiberius' grin somehow got wider. "Simple: We sell hopes and dreams of wealth to mammals, who are willing to pay for it."

"What do you mean?" Charles raised an eyebrow as he disliked the direction this conversation was going.

Tiberius continued, "We set up a table in Sahara Square. Not main square of course, because that is too obvious, but close enough for many possible customers to walk by. There, we set up a shell game with plastic cups. Easy as pie so far. Now, here comes the catch,"

Tiberius got off his bed and put his paw under his bed. He clearly searched for something under it. After a few seconds, he pulled out a wooden box and opened it to reveal it's contents.

Charles saw a dark disk and a small metal ball. Tiberius took the disk out and Charles saw that the ball was attached to it.

As Tiberius pulled the ball away from the disk, he continued to explain: "They are both magnetic. Now, the ball is under the cup, and this disk is in my paw. If I want someone to win, I pick the cup with my left paw. If not, I will pick it up with my right, the disk in that palm attracts the ball and violah! No ball can be seen. Baron showed me the trick and gave me these things."

"This is scamming," his brother countered, clearly feeling unwell about this idea. "You can do that by yourself."

"No, but I need you on this."

"How come?"

"This, is where the luring comes into , I play a fair game, let some win, some lose. Then, you come in, and win a few rounds in a row. Bystanders will notice this and gather a crowd. From there on out, we have our customers."

"I don't know Tib."

"Just think about Michelle. Don't you want to ride her to school, once holidays are over? Think of all the envy you get from the jocks… Not to speak of the femammal attention you will get." Tiberius knew, he would catch his brother with this.

"Attention, you say?"

"Of course. C'mon, a big, buff, biker bunny will surely turn most of the gals' heads. In fact, they will turn their heads so fast, their mind gets spinning. And this gets them riled up like nothing else."

The inner conflict ravaged Charles' mind like a tornado. He knew the stakes were high, but his brother was right. All the girls would look at him. Noticing him. He could actually be the biker he was dreaming of since he saw a group of them on their journey to Clearwater a few years back.

"Alright, I'm in. When and where?"

Tiberius laughed wholeheartedly. "I knew you would be smart enough to listen to me. I already sent a text to Baron. He will set up the table at Palm Street. We will do this at four o'clock"

"You are a quick thinker, Tib. But how about starting cash? I am totally blank."

"Don't worry yourself about the details. Those things are already taken care of. Baron will lend us a few bucks."

"And what about the cops? Hell, if Mom and Dad find out, we are done for."

Tiberius let out an annoyed groan. "What did I just say? Leave the details to me. But to calm your mind, we only need an hour topps to get the cash we need for the brakes. From the time our customers know they have been… hustled until the cops show up to bust some low life trickster, we'll be over the hills and gone. But once you walk away after your wins, I need you to walk away far enough to remain unseen, but close enough to keep an eye out on anyone who is making a call. Do you understand this?"

Charles nodded. All of this sounded reasonable enough and the plan was set. It was for his Michelle, after all. Some time after lunch, they waved their parents and sister goodbye, and sat their asses on the next subway to Palm Street.

 **28th of July 2006 4:04 p.m.**

 **Palm Street, Zootopia**

As Tiberius said, the details where cleared already. The table was set up. All that was left to do was place the cups and ball on the table and the hustle could begin.

The plan was going along well. Quite a fair share of citizens were walking by, and some took their chance while Tiberius played with them. All the while, Charles walked by, looking through the windows of the stores, acting as casual as possible.

After his third round around the block, Tiberius has started to attract more mammals by actively offering a round of 'double fortune cup' as he called it, along with some small silver-tongue small-talk.

Another round around the block followed and then Charles heard the cue as he strolled by.

They talked about their cue and strategy on their way to their station at Palm Street.

"Hey, Mister Buff Bunny. You look like a lucky buck. Come closer and prove me right," Tiberius called out.

Charles walked closer and they introduced as strangers.

"So, I see it in your face. You are searching for something. Something special for a special one maybe?"

 _Damn, Tiberius could play his act so casual. Stay calm Charles_ , he thought and acted like they scripted "Actually yes, tomorrow is the anniversary of my girl and me. I wanted to buy flowers for her."

"Then, what is stopping you?"

"Well, you see, I only have about seven bucks on me. And she deserves more than just a cheap rose."

Slowly, some mammals were stopping. Most of them were just some nosy evesdroppers but it did the trick.

"You see, my bunnyfriend. Here is the thing. Even without cash, you can still surprise that lucky girl. You can always write a heart filled poem to her for free. But you could also write that poem and give her a big flower bouquet. All it takes is taking your chance, challenge your luck. And you do look very lucky today. What do you say?"

Charles took an artistic pause, just as his brother told him earlier. For the bystanders, it should look as he was contemplating. Finally, Charles pulled out a few coins from his pockets.

"You're right. I can always do a poem. Let's go for it." Charles wagered all his seven-something bucks and guessed the right cup.

"Congratulations, here are your fourteen dollars, buddy."

"Alright, cool, thanks."

Charles walked a few steps away before his brother called him back. "Alright? Is that all?"

"What was that?" Charles stopped right in his track and turned around on his heel.

"Don't you think that some ice cream would make your lucky one's heart flip?"

"Yeah, but… I don't know. I mean, what are my chances to win again?"

"Don't ask me, ask Fortuna. But you can always go back to only a poem, right?"

"Damn, you are right. Ok, double or nothing."

Charles put the fourteen bucks back on the table and they played again. According to the script, Charles won again, and had a stable twenty eight dollars on his paws.

"Congratulations again, buddy. I told you, you looked like a lucky guy."

"Yeah you did… you know what? Let's do another five. Maybe I can get movie tickets out of this as well."

"Oh, I see, you do everything for the pretty lady. Ok, let's see if Lady Fortuna is still smiling down on you"

And again, Charles won this round again, causing him to walk away again, counting his thirtytwo bucks.

"Buddy, no next game? You are on a roll," Tiberius called out.

"No thanks. A wise mammal once said, you gotta know when to call it quits."

"Alright, have a good one. And make that anniversary special!"

With that sentence, Tiberius turned his attention back to the rest of the bystanders, as Charles made his way out of sight of those, and into the next alleyway to keep an eye out on danger.

He saw that their act took good effect. One mammal after the other lost quite some bucks before giving up, some coming up with similar stories like Charles, to get into the favour of Tiberius, but to no avail.

He was not letting anyone win and after a short while, this greedy bastard started to count the money. Tiberius surely wanted to end today's hustle. This was when a white wolf stepped forward. Charles' eyes widen in panic as he recognized this white wolf.

"Hey, boy, let me try my luck," the wolf said.

Without looking up and continuing his counting, Tiberius answered: "Sorry Sir, we need to close this stand for today, no more cash accepted."

"I think you will do an exception for this type of cash."

A shiny ZPD-Officer's shield clattered on the table. Tiberius halted his counting and pointed his attention to the clattering in front of him. He saw the name written on the shield: Officer E. Fanghanel.

"Oh… Oh, Elliott.. _cough_ Officer Fanghanel." Tiberius voice cracked up as his own expression formed into a face of horror.

"Let me say this: I am very disappointed in you and your brother. I've seen your little scheme for a while now."

It was strange. Elliott was not arresting him. Instead, he stood there like his mom would, when he fubberknuckled something.

"Charles, come here. I know you are somewhere around here! And the rest of you mammals, go home, or elsewhere, nothing to see here!" Elliott almost shouted.

With drooping ears and hanging head, Charles walked out of the alleyway and towards Elliott and Tiberius. The rest of the crowd already disappeared once Charles reached his brother and the friend of the family Elliot.

"What were you boys thinking? Hustling the good Zootopian citizens?" There he was standing with arms crossed over his chest, towering over the boys, even if they wouldn't be slouched over in shame.

"I… We… We needed cash for…" Charles tried to stammer his way to an answer.

Tiberius chimed in with a seemingly good idea: "For a girl that Charlie likes. Yes, he… uhm… wanted to invite her to… icecream and a movie."

"Huh? Uhm, YES! Yes this is exactly the reason."

Tiberius nudged his brother lightly to make him stop talking. Elliott sighted and rubbed his nose between his eyes with one paw. "Even IF this was true, this is not how you earn cash. When I was your age, I searched for jobs on the side. Helping out at a florist, at the carwash, normal things Not committing crimes."

"We are sorry," Charles said.

"Are we in trouble now Ell… Officer Fanghanel?" Tiberius was hopeful, that they could turn their luck back into their favour, it was Elliott, afterall. Good old, silly and upbeat uncle Elliott who knew them since they were born.

With another big sigh, Elliott said, "You are good kits by heart, just maybe a bit misguided. You know what? I will not bring you to the precinct and write a report…"

Both kits' faces lighted up, but this only lasted until Elliott continued. "You, however will do something good with that cash. I want you to donate it to the local homeless shelter."

This stung Tiberius more than Charles. Sure, it hurt to know that the repairs of their bike would take far more time, but at least they didn't get into trouble for a pretty serious crime.

"And, I will bring you home personally, where you will confess this to your parents."

This was the end of that small glimmer of hope to come out unscathed.

 **28th of July 2006 11:22 p.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

The scolding came in like a bomb. Never have the brothers seen their mother in such a fury, and never had their father looked that disappointed. Not even after their underage asses were caught drunk in the streets by their parents.

No, this was a next-level-scolding. Not even Elliott could smooth the waves by telling them that the money came to a good cause.

Their first punishment was, of course, house arrest. And they were sent to their rooms early. As for the rest, Nick and Judy would decide later.

This was a few hours ago.

Now, residence was quiet for a while. Around this time, Charles was lying awake in his bed, his guilty conscience taunting and torturing him. He thought that everyone else but him took a shut-eye for the night. This was until he heard some comotion through the wall.

He tried to listen to it more closely, since the voices were only faint whispers, even for his bunny ears. He could hear a male and a female voice. No doubt, they belonged to his parents. As he leaned in closer to the wall, pressing one ear against it, and holding the other closed with his paw, he could actually follow the conversation a bit.

"I don't know what else we can do, Nick. I don't know why, but we can't let them both be unattended."

"We will find a way, Fluff. I promise."

"How can you promise that? I don't know what got into them. Next time we might see them through the bars of a cell."

' _Did Judy just start to sob?'_ Charles asked himself.

"Don't be too over dramatic, they are far away from being criminals."

Then, for about a minute, only sobbing could be heard, but soon the conversation started up again. Now, Judy sounded, almost angry.

"Yeah, you gotta know that, Mr. started-hustling-with-twelve."

"Ouch, Carrots, that was not necessary."

"I don't have the strength to pull them out of the same hole I found you in. Not both of them."

"Carrots, we are in this together. You can rely on me."

"On you? I think your hustler-influence has caused this. Either that, or they somehow got into contact with your old pal Finnick."

"What are you saying there?"

"Where do you think they learned that hustle? Surely not from me."

Charles heard enough. Eavesdropping on that conversation brought him to two clear conclusions. Firstly, the marriage of his parents was in jeopardy. Secondly, with the bits of conversation: _'can't let them both be unattended' and 'pull them out of the hole, not both of them',_ in mind, there was only one thing he could do.

As silent as possible he got out of bed and pulled his kitbag out from under it. Next stop was the closet. Some spare clothes were cramped into the bag and clothed himself with one set.

He then remembered the canteen from their camping adventure and where he had last seen it. Surely he found it in the bottom drawer of his closet. Last stop was his nightstand. In it, he was hiding three packs of smokes, four cans of beer, his lighter and a flashlight. All of which wandered into the kitbag.

With the bag hanging from his shoulders, he snuck past the parents' bedroom and towards the front door, grabbing his jacket and keys on the way there.

Sadly, this turn of events could have been prevented if Charles would either listened to it a minute longer, or not listened at all. Because what he didn't know, but Nick did very well, was that Judy was just releasing some steam. They reconciled even before Charles was done packing.

Charles opened the garage and put the kitbag into the sidecar of his bike. But he was smart enough to not start Michelle right then and there. He pushed her out of the driveway, on to the street.

With a tear in his eye, he took one last look at his childhood home, in a silent goodbye.

He pushed Michelle a few blocks further, not to wake his parents when he would start her and drive into the unknown.

There was only one place he thought of going. The one place, outside of Zootopia, he felt joy: Clearwater station.


	6. Chapter 5 - Wherever I may roam

A/N: I tried something again and I don't know if this works on or not but... I have a link to a Youtube video in there with a specific time mark. If it works, click the link and have fun. If not, I included the important timestamp from start to finish. Have fun.

* * *

 **5th of June 2017, 11:13 p.m.**

 **HMC Workshop, Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

A chuckle escaped Charles' muzzle. "Fuck, I have been a massive idiot, now haven't I?" he asked the void before him under his breath, "How could I have been this stupid?"

"But then again, I guess I earned this."

A few moments of silence passed. He concentrated on breathing steadily, even though it was shallow and synchronized with the constant ticks of the clock.

Inhale… one… two… exhale… one… two…

Suddenly, there was another sound accompanying the clock's steady beat. A faint but high pitched sound with a certain rhythm of rising and falling volume coming from the outside.

He tried to turn his ears towards the source of the sound, but it was still too faint to recognize.

Without thinking, he started to shift his head and upper body towards the source as well, which brought a sharp sting from his wounds and zapped through his body, causing his throat to groan in agony and his body to slump back in his original position.

It didn't take long for this noise to come close enough for Charles to realize what it was.

"Police sirens! I was wondering when the sheriff and his deputies would show up."

He looked at his revolver, which was still resting in his usable paw. He could only see the moonlight reflecting from the gun's shiny surface.

"Let's hit the road one more time, my old friend," he whispered as he pointed the tip under his chin and…

 _Click..._

 _Click… Click…_

Confused, he pulled the gun away from under his chin and opened the barrel. He held the backside of the barrel towards the moonlight to inspect it.

There was the reason for the rebellious behaviour. All six bullets were fired already, indicated by the marks of the hammer.

"So much for the 'Old Faithful'. Stupid piece of junk!" Charles threw the gun towards the other side of the room, where it collided with a glass showcase, shattering it in the process.

He scoffed loudly, clearly releasing his frustration as he tried to lift the whisky glass up to his muzzle. His damaged paw rendering it impossible, so he took the glass in his usable, free paw and took another sip.

"I fought the law and the law won, I guess."

And so, immobile and unable to escape the inevitable, he sunk back into his memories again, trying to recollect his time after he left home for the last time.

 **29th of July 2006 5:21 a.m.**

 **Riverclearing, Clearwater, Boarderland**

About five hours later and three hundred miles on his back, Charles arrived at the clearing which he, his siblings, and friends visited six years ago.

He did not take the same hiking route as he did the first time since he could not ride his bike offroad. After passing the trainstation of Clearwater and going for a few more miles, he found a dirt road which Michelle could take easily. He was uncertain if this road would lead to the clearing, but he was tired and even the ground in the woods would make for a better bedding than the roadside.

Luckily, he took the right way and was standing in the clearing a few minutes later. This luck was even doubled when he saw something odd on the side of said clearing.

Apparently, someone else must have found this place in this six year period because that someone dragged a wooden park bench all the way here.

' _So much for sleeping on the ground,'_ he thought as he parked Michelle nearby and grabbed his kitbag from the sidecar.

Yes, he was tired, but not too tired for a little drink, or two, alongside some of puffs of cigarette smoke.

' _Nothing better than a good smoke and a cold beer,"_ he quoted Baron in his mind, who stated this line almost at the same spot Charles was standing right now.

With a grunt, he planted himself on the bench. For a second, he thought the bench would crack under him as it made the sound of old and worn furniture. Thankfully, the seating of the bench did not break through, but Charles would be more careful next time.

He cracked open his first can, lit a smoke and allowed his thoughts to wonder: ' _Am I doing the right thing? Is this a horrible mistake?_

 _Nah, it's alright. you are doing this for the sake of your family._

 _Without me, maybe mom and dad can bring Tib to his senses._

 _After all, he doesn't have an accomplice now. And Lilith is too smart to help him with his schemes._

 _He could convince Baron though, but he lives out of town. Maybe Tib will start to think twice before doing his bullshit._

 _I sincerely hope mom and dad can straighten his mind up.'_

With these thoughts he continued to drink his beer. Before knowing it, he already downed his supply on beer and had finished one of his packs of smokes.

His last action for now was to get a pawfull of spare clothes from his kitbag and putting them on one side of the bench he was sitting earlier, forming a makeshift pillow for him.

 _Tomorrow is another day, and maybe even the first day of the rest of my life, with a long road ahead. Stay positive, you did the right thing and now you are free, Charley-boy._

He closed his eyes and was slumbered immediately.

 **29th of July 2006 8:47 a.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

Tiberius blinked a few times as he woke up naturally. While stretching, yawning and scratching his belly he remembered his task at hand: Standing up to mom and dad, receiving punishment, and then moving forward.

He stood up and walked to his dresser. It struck him as odd that it was open already. With this in mind, he looked towards Charles' bed, which he found empty.

' _Did he already go down? That doofy, will he never learn that we are only strong together? I can't believe we are actual twins. Ah, whatever,'_ he thought and chuckled as he grabbed a set of his clothes and got dressed.

Not more than ten minutes later, Tiberius was ready to face his parents alongside his brother. He was absolutely convinced they could stand tall against them, suffer through the punishment together, no matter how hard it may be.

He walked downstairs towards the kitchen, where the family would usually take in breakfast and lunch. As expected, Nick, Judy and Lilith where sitting at the dinner table, Judy sipping from a coffee mug and Nick reading the newspaper.

"Morning," Tiberius said in a low voice, playing the kit with a guilty conscience perfectly.

"Good morning, Tiberius," Nick said, without looking up from his newspapers, "please get your brother down. You know we need to talk."

This was when Tiberius crooked his eyebrows: "He isn't already down here?"

"No, why do you ask?" Judy said as he put down her mug with the ZPD-logo on.

"Well, I figured, since his bed is empty."

Now Nick lowered his newspaper: "That is strange."

"Maybe he is in the garage already?" Lilith added.

"We should have seen that. But yeah, honey, could you look for him there please?" Judy asked her daughter.

"On my way, boss," Lilith playfully saluted before she scurried off.

Lilith returned about one minute later. 'Worry' was written all over her muzzle.

"His bike is gone!"

Judy almost spilled her coffee. "WHAT?!"

"Yes, only our car is in the garage, and no sign of Charlie."

"No, this can't be, the bike isn't even…" Tiberius started to talk, but halted as he didn't want to burst out that the bike was in no condition to drive on the road.

"Not even what?" his father barked at him, more out of concern than of anger. It did, however, intimidate his son to lose his train of thoughts for a moment.

"Isn't even… ummm… not even…"

"Listen, boy, if this is one of those pranks of yours, then…" Nick said, his index finger raised in a menacing manner.

"No, dad, seriously. I have no idea what is going on, honestly."

"This has time for later. We need to find my boy!" Judy said as she hurried out of the kitchen.

After twenty minutes of searching, Tiberius had an idea.

"Sush it, I'm calling him." With that, his family went silent and gathered around him.

The telephone rang once, twice, three times and then mailbox.

"That is odd," Tiberius said with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it, Tiberius?" his father asked.

"Mailbox. Wait let me try again."

He called again, but now, he went straight to the mailbox without a single peep.

Tiberius tried a few more times, before he gave up with hanging shoulders.

"I can't reach him. His phone went offline."

This was the breaking point of Judy. She slumped down on her knees in tears. Thankfully, Nick was close by to comfort her.

"Our boy is gone, Nick."

He kneeled next to her, pulled her close and started to stroke her ears back.

"We will find him."

"How? He could be anywhere, we don't even know when he ran away."

"Shh. It'll be okay, Judy. You don't see the obvious. We are officers. We will talk to Bogo. The old buffalo-butt may be strict, but no officer in need was ever rejected by him."

Her tears subsided into a few suffocated hiccups. "You are right, Nick." She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. "Thank you for always being calm when I can't. I love you."

"I love you too. Come on, let's go to the precinct. We shouldn't waste time."

"You are right," she said before pecking a kiss on his muzzle.

"Please keep the house in check," Nick said as he helped his wife to her feet.

"Of course," Lilith and Tiberius said in unison.

This was probably the first time Tiberius felt truly ashamed of himself. Deep within him, he knew he caused that. With a hanging head and shoulders, he went to his room, which would be his alone from now on, and locked himself in.

 **29th of July 2006 9:18 a.m.**

 **Riverclearing, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Charles was forcefully awaken by a vibration in his pocket as well as some familiar tunes.

Before he could sit up and fish his phone from his pocket, the fourteen-second-loop of his ringtone already finished once and was starting his second chime already.

 _Cue "As Blood Runs Black - My Fears Have Become Phobias" at 3:27 until 3:41_

/2ppHDz9P1LM?t=3m27s

Lilith sampled this part for him, since it was his favourite part of any song the band 'As Boars Bleed Black' had produced by that time.

He looked at his phone and saw a picture of his brother. A picture he snapped in the band room, when he was passed out on the couch, on one of the days they stayed longer to drink. One of those days, when it actually worked out to fool their parents and they were none the wiser.

There he was, lying, arm over his eyes, tongue out of his mouth and salivating on the cushion.

The ringtone looped a second time while Charles looked at the picture and getting more morally conflicted.

 _Should I pick up? I mean, they are clearly worried…_

 _No! It is best for them. I cannot destroy when I'm not there_.

With this, he gripped his phone tight, winded up his arm and threw it towards the river. Before the ringtone could end his third loop, the phone landed in the waves and was gone forever.

Suddenly, a song came to his mind. It may not have been fitting perfectly, but he could not help to see the similarities.

 _Cue "Slipknot - Snuff"_

He was too angry about everything to even attempt to consider, that he might not have been the main problem. Although, the realisation of his stupidity only came years later.

Yet, a different revelation came quickly. It came into his mind in the form of a grumbling stomach. He had not considered taking food with him.

It took the best part of the next two hours to figure out a way to get some cash. There was no option. He couldn't ask for a job, since without a certificate, no honorable company would hire him. He could do some hustles, but this would render him a criminal again. Lastly, he could beg for some cash. But he would lose his own dignity. This was the absolute last resort.

 _Well, let's get to the city first. There, I can always decide_.

He hopped in his bike and started it. But then he looked at the gas-gauge. Only a quarter tank left. He immediately switched the engine off. If there was a time to save up on resources, it was now.

On foot, he made his way up to the dirt path, out of the forest, towards the asphalt road. From there on out, he followed the road until he came to a town. The sign read "Welcome to Clearwater."

He also kept track of the time he took from the clearing to the town sign, which gave him a rough estimate of thirty minutes. Very rough, since it was closer to three quarters of an hour.

He started to stroll through the city. If nothing else, he could at least pass the time and figure out what to make out of his situation. The town itself was nothing special. Even Bunnyburrow had a speciality to it, which were the massive bunny-population. Clearwater however, was just a rural town, straight from a textbook.

He came across some houses and shops until he eventually stopped at a groomer shop, complete with a red-blue-white striped shop-pole. As he took a look through the shop window, he could see four otters, all dressed in a white shirt, a red-white vest and some kind of hat. Two of them had even curled their whiskers into fancy moustaches. Lastly, Charles noticed they were singing while they groomed their customers.

But since it was some form of a capella, a music style he couldn't stand, he continued his stroll through the town. He found the local fire department, the town hall and a police station.

 _They really use sheriffs here? Isn't that a little outdated?_ , he thought as he read the sign on the station. He knew that term from old movies, where the land around Zootopia was still a wild and unclaimed land. He did remember granpaw Stu mention a sheriff in Bunnyburrow, but even then his mind drifted off to tales of gold-diggers, gunfights with revolvers, hard mammals who chase down ostriches with lassos and them drinking liquor from mugs with "triple X" labels, while spitting some black goo into a spittoon.

He did continue his expedition through this strange, probably backwards-attitude town, as he noticed one mammal giving him a stern eye. His outfit somewhat resembled his mother's work attire, with a utility belt, radio and even a gun. The difference was that, this uniform was a light brown and not the navy-blue of the ZPD.

 _Well, I sure as hell ain't in Zootopia anymore,_ he thought as he made his way to a park nearby.

This park was nothing special either, but he saw it was as well maintained as the green areas in his home-city. This place was far more lively than what he had seen so far around here, wherein most of the attention was centered around the playground. He saw kits playing chase, some others climbing around a playhouse with adjacent slides, four kits were using a seesaw simultaneously, some others were building a sandcastle in the sandbox.

The benches were almost all occupied by mothers, chatting together and having a watchful eye on their kits.

He continued his path and the atmosphere changed to something calmer again. He came to a fountain which was surrounded by more benches. He saw something shimmering in this fountain, so he walked closer and saw there were laying coins on the bottom of it. This brought him to a glorious idea.

 _It isn't stealing if people give away their money, right?_ he asked himself as he took a quick peek around. He realised quickly, that he was far from alone here. So, before he would draw any attention, he acted like he was appreciating the fountain as a whole, before he took a seat on a bench nearby.

From his new spot, he could take in his surroundings in closer detail. He saw an old man, feeding bread crumbs to some birds, a couple which seemed happy to spend some time together and a group of teens, involved in their own chatter and laughs.

This stung particularly hard, since those reminded him of his friends he left behind without a word. Some smoked, one other was drinking from a bottle covered in a paper bag, and another one even took a seat on the backrest of the bench, like he normally would.

 _Fucking dammit, why did I have to screw it up so badly?_ he asked himself for a short while, before he tried to concentrate back on his current situation.

He decided that he would hang out in this town and come back at nightfall to snatch the coins that were sitting on the bottom of the fountain, waiting for him.

As he came across a cigarette-vending machine, he remembered a quote from Baron: "Always check the change dispensers. You wouldn't believe how many mammals just forget about that."

This idea was particularly helpful, since his stomach started to grumble.

In the next three hour, he scavenged any dispenser he could find, and had two dollars and forty-three cents to his name. Not much, but it was enough to buy a bag of carrots and even two cans of the cheapest beer the next store had to offer.

He knew that he should not spend his cash on alcoholic beverages, but it was hot and he wanted to feel a little bit of a buzz.

The cashier asked for his ID, of course, but before his departure, he was smart enough to grab his fake ID he got from Baron years earlier, making him twenty-three in the eyes of the clerk.

Munching and gulping down on his snack, he continued onwards. Thankfully, the sun started to set and he could soon clean out the fountain in the park. Over and over, he repeated to himself that he would not be stealing anything today.

 _Cleaning out the fountain should be considered a civil service. Like a garbage collector. And my salary is what I find. Yes, this is what I'm doing. Nothing illegal, just…_

His thoughts were cut short by a loud rumbling noise passing by him on the street from behind, followed by an honking horn and an angry: "Watch where ya going, kit!"

He stopped in his tracks immediately as a group of bikers were now passing in front of him, entering a yard that was fenced off, except an open gate, which they passed through.

He looked after them and couldn't believe it as he saw the patch on one of the biker's jacket. It was the same logo he saw on his first trip close to Clearwater.

From beyond the fence, he could also see the yard. He saw a barn-like structure, where the bikers drove into. Along that, there were two more buildings, but he couldn't muster their function from this distance. _Maybe their clubhouse? And that other house, could that be the repair-garage? Or some kind of storage for their guns and…_

His thoughts were interrupted again as a scruffy voice commanded, "Get lost, kiddo," followed by a screech and metal clattering. It was a wolf, with the same jacket as the others, who closed the gate in front of Charles' nose, which was twitching in excitement.

 _WOW! This town has something cool to it. Who would have guessed?_

It was almost pitch black when Charles arrived back at the clearing. He could scavenge thirteen dollar and twenty seven cents from the wishing fountain before he made his way to his makeshift home, which was a huge amount, considering his situation.

 _If I can keep this up, I will have no problems whatsoever. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all._

With this thought, he laid himself on his impromptu bed and waited for the sleep to come to him.

Unfortunately, mammals weren't so eager to spend their spare change on good wishes. Apparently, the wishing fountain had not 'cleaned' for quite a while. As, during the next day, he could only get a measly five-cent coin. This realisation came after Charles spent most of his cash already.

He could keep himself afloat by returning bottle deposits, but this was in no way sustainable.

A week later, he was completely hungry, and just as broke too.

 **5th of August 2006 11:21 a.m.**

 **Riverclearing, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Charles slept in. Some old habits die hard for rabbits. His head was pounding as well when he woke up, since he chose a bottle of whiskey as his dinner, with his last bit of cash. He couldn't help it. The loneliness took the better part of him recently.

With a groan, he got up. He had developed a somewhat similar routine like he had back home.

He sipped a few gulps from the river, got up, unzipped his zipper and let the yellow stream flow free into the clear stream.

He gave the river a few minutes to wash his residue away, before undressing himself. In an absence of an actual running shower, he resided to bath in the stream daily as well as washing his clothes along with himself. The water was enough to rinse out any form of sweat and dirt out of his fur and not-so-fine fabrics. Those have surely seen better days. It was in no way as comfortable as a hot shower, but it did the job.

After his hygiene necessities were fulfilled, he hung his wet clothes over the backrest of the bench. Since it was close to high noon, they would dry up in less than an hour. So, in the absence of any other activities, he decided to swim some laps in the stream, from shore to shore. Being technically homeless and hungry beyond measure were no excuses to neglect your own body. The swimming, alongside the cold water had the nice little side-effect of kicking his blood flow and heart rate into overdrive and soon enough, there was no hangover left in him.

After his fourth lap, he decided to come out of the water again, and bake himself dry in the midday sun, oblivious to two pairs of watchful eyes just a few strides up the dirt path.

After checking and realising his clothes were still a bit too moist for his liking, he grabbed his aviators and turned his back to the clothes, and also the dirt path, to watch the calm flow of the water for a while.

To dry up quicker, he raised his arms to the side and out of an urge, he started to flex his biceps and his back muscles. The following events went down in quick succession.

He heard a whistle that sounded awfully lot like a cat-call, followed by an embarrassed hush: "Shut up, Kathy." Simultaneously, Charles heard some dry branches cracking and a rattling of a nearby bush.

He turned his head, and saw an old farming tractor up the road and heard another ushered "What? He is sexy," and some giggling.

Realizing that he was totally nude, he grabbed his undies from the bench and jumped straight behind a bush himself.

"Who's there?" he called out, the nervousness clearly swinging in his voice.

His ears caught up another, almost silent conversation.

"Come on, Kathy, let's go."

 _Giggling._

"But it's impolite to not introduce ourselves. Come."

"No, please. Let's go, pretty please."

"Don't be a prude, Lydia. Besides, you are cute when you are fluster-blushing. He may like you."

 _Rattling behind the bushes._

Now, a tad bit louder: "Stop dragging me! _Urgh_ you are the worst!"

Soon, two mammals emerged on the dirt path and came closer to the clearing. It was a lynx, about the same size as Charles, dragged by her paw by a similar sized racoon.

"Hey, buffcake. I am Kathy," the racoon introduced herself without seeing Charles.

"And this is my friend and neighbor Lydia," she motioned with her free paw to the lynx she was dragging behind her.

"Uhhhhm…. hi," the lynx said shyly.

"Now, we were polite. Your turn, big boy."

Charles peeked out from his hiding spot and asked: "Do you mind if I get dressed first?"

"Ah.. uh.. of course not," Lydia said, clearly flustered.

"Actually, I do mind, don't be shy, come out" Kathy said with a wry grin and got a shove from Lydia.

"Well then…" Charles took care of the matter at hand and slipped into his underwear, which was still uncomfortably moist. This gave him the time to realise that he shouldn't say his actual name when he introduces himself.

He walked out, and saw the two of them fully now. The raccoon was definitely cute but what really caught his eye was the shy lynx by her side. He could not see her eyes clearly, since she gazed on the ground, but Charles could see that she took a few quick glimpses of him, before looking away again quickly. He actually liked this shy farm-girl-behaviour more than the overly flirty one of her friend.

"Soooooo…?" Kathy asked with a raised eyebrow, "who are you now?"

"Ah, yes.. I am Charles… Charles Hammer," he offered a paw with a goofy grin.

Had it been milliseconds or hours, Charles couldn't tell but there was an uncomfortable silence between the three of them.

 _Quick Charly, think, what would Tib say. A sly remark, something funny, dammit freaking anything…_

"So, wha," he began his sentence but had to clear his throat because his voice started to crack up. "So, what are some fine girls like you two are doing out here?"

 _Realy? Fine girls? You are the dumbest fuck alive_ , the voice of his brother chimed in his head.

But to his surprise, it tickled a giggle out of the ladies.

"Well, probably the same as you. Enjoying the middle of the summer by the stream. Doing some swimming and having a picnic," said Kathy

 _Picnic? Food? Oh damn, I wish I had some…_

"You… You wanna join, hm?" Lydia asked.

"OF COURSE!... sorry, yes, it would be an honor," Charles could hardly hold back his eagerness. He felt like he was starving for the last two days. He did build a crude fishing rod, using some sticks, thin cloth strings and nails as hooks after it got progressively harder to find cash in town after the second day. He bent them into shape using rocks. Sadly, the contraption was not yielding the results he hoped for. For every carp, he had to replace three hooks, complete with string and bait, and the device only caught two fish during its lifetime.

"Alright, let's go for a swim then. Sorry buffybunny, but we won't go skinny dipping like you did," Kathy said, unhooking the straps of her dungarees, revealing her swimsuit underneath, "but that doesn't mean I'm bothered if you do."

Charles lost his words by that, his blush could be seen in the redness that crept up his ears.

"Stop it, don't you see that you make him uncomfortable? And you've embarrassed me as well," Lydia said.

"Eh, you two really fit together. Two fluster-blushed tweenies. Good looking but to shy to see that." With those words, Kathy discarded her dungarees and took a running jump into the cold water.

"I'm sorry for my friend. She can be a bit much at times," Lydia said, muzzle pointed to the ground and the digits of her paws intertwined in themselves.

Charles giggled. "Hehe, maybe. I think she is just trying to be nice." Just now he realised that she scooted a bit closer to him. She was definitely standing in his personal sphere, but this was not a bad thing at all.

"Y'all are coming or what?!" Kathy shouted from her place in the stream, only her head poking out from the surface, "Or are you let me have all the fun by myself?"

Charles and Lydia nodded towards each other, an unspoken truce, and took a run for the stream itself. Charles in his undies and Lydia… she undressed herself from her own garments, revealing her bikini and discarded her clothes, all the while running and keeping pace with Charles.

They both took a dive into the stream and swam their way to Kathy.

"This is for making Charly uncomfortable." With these words, Lydia lunged herself out of the water and on top of Kathy to dunk her head under water.

From their position in the stream, Charles could still stand on the muddy ground, so he hugged Kathy from behind around her middle section as she resurfaced, saying: "And this is for making Lydia blush," jumping up, putting them both out of the water completely and dive-bombing her and him simultaneously.

Totally caught off guard, Kathy swallowed some water accidentally and had to cough it up once her head was on the air again.

Charles and Lydia, each raised a paw above the water and gave themselves a high five.

Once Kathy could catch her breath again, she countered without any sign of anger: "And you even make a good team," giving a wink to Lydia, who seemed to be ashamed immediately as she scooted away from him.

Turning to Charles, she said "She has a tooth for you, buff-bunny, I can sense that."

"STOP IT!" Lydia shouted and splashed water into Kathy's face. All of them could not help but laugh.

It took quite a long time until their bantering and splashing was done and they all swam back to the shore. Lydia spread a blanket they brought over the ground and Kathy brought a basket from the tractor. Its contents smelled like heaven to Charles, which stomach already grumbled as loud as a savage bear after hibernation.

As they were seated, Kathy started to talk. "Have you guys seen that branch construction? It almost looks like a fishtrap from a survival book I'm reading," she said.

Charles did not know what came over him but he blew his cover, starting with this sentence: "Yep, it is. It's mine," and hung his head in shame. He could have said anything, or nothing at all and especially not make this kind of body language. But he felt somewhat secure. Not talking to anyone, and making up stories in his head if someone chatted him up were a bit too much. Now, two girls were genuinely enjoying his company and he lost his composure completely.

 _Stupid idiot, to woo the femammals, you always have to be on top,_ the voice of Tiberius chimed in again.

Lydia caught up immediately. She saw the makeshift tent from the corner of her eye between two trees behind the shrubbery earlier. She could not make sense of it at first but now it was obvious to her like four missing tires on a vehicle.

"You are living for some time here, don't you?" she asked as she patted his big shoulder.

Charles simply nodded without raising his head.

"If you… if you want, I can… we can share our sandwiches with you."

She held her sandwich out for him, which he accepted eagerly.

"But you should remove the…" her line of reasoning was interrupted at the moment she saw Charles devouring the sandwich, "chicken strips."

Charles did not care, he hadn't eaten for a few days and took it in every chance he got.

"Well, you don't see a rabbit eating chicken everyday now, huh Lydia?"

"Nuh-uh" she answered. They both watched in amazement. It was clearly unusual to see a prey eating meat, around their corner of the world.

After a few vigorous bites, Charles choked on the gifted food and started to cough heavily.

The girls reacted fast. "Quick, throw me a can," Lydia called out to Kathy, who quickly drew a beer can from cooler and tossed it towards her friend.

Lydia opened it and gave it to Charles, as she started to rub his back. Gladly, he took a big sip from the can, to wash down the piece of chicken bread, which was dislodged in his throat. After a burp he couldn't conceal, he was able to breath normal again.

"You should really slow down, buff-jerky. Don't want to drag you to the E.R." Kathy said. Charles chuckled.

"You've been living here for a while now?" Lydia's voice was warm and soft.

"Yep," Charles answered, his voice full of dread of what they may think.

"And you haven't eaten much either, right?" her voice was full of understanding and compassion.

"True," his answer only a whisper.

"You know… My dad… He kinda… uhmm…"

"What my friend wants to say is, her father hires farmhands. No background check, no nothing."

"Yes, our farm is just on the other side of town, and… you can have a roof over yourself… and… you get to eat and… you get paid every two weeks and…"

"And you can see her, while she can see you every day," Kathy chimed in, trying to be helpful.

This helpfulness did not have the desired results. Charles went into a defensive state, he did not need pity.

"I will think about it, ok? But no promises though," he said. He honestly thought he had to keep his dignity, given the current situation.

"At least promise me to think about it," Lydia pledged with big eyes and held out her pinky finger, "pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," Charles said, while hooking his pinky in hers as they sweared their oaths.

He did not consider the idea, he would not take charity, no matter how cute the girl who offered it was. This thought would be thrown overboard soon though.

"This is like Highschool-Howlsical," Kathy said while munching on her sandwich.

The rest of the afternoon was a bliss and Kathy was confirmed in her suspicions, which she blurted out earlier. Neither Charles nor Lydia would dare to scoot closer to each other, as well as they would not leave each others side. Those two were already hooked to each other.

After the sun had set, the girls bid Charles farewell, hopped on the tractor and left him to his business, which was not more than chilling out on the park bench and retrace the whole day in his head over and over, which always brought a blush up his ears. One part of him was giddy about this whole situation, some other part was totally embarrassed with himself, given his few slipups and the confession he made.


	7. Chapter 6 - A farmers fragile feelings

A/N: First, a very special thanks to falloutman114 (over at deviantart) for letting me use his OC, Michael Vulpez. Praise this man! PRAISE HIM!

This is one beast of a chapter again. The longest so far. I realy tried my best to get it right. I hope you can give me at least an A for efford.

Also, there is a song in here with German lyrics (Wilde Flamme - Durch alle Gezeiten). I would suggest that you listen to the song first and then send me a PM if you are curious about the translation. Or you use google translate but this could be wonky. Oh and I think you shouldn't use the translation as a "read along" since I can't translate the rythm.

And finally, another big thank you to optimuspower92 and diah20 over at deviantart for being my proofreaders.

* * *

 **-date unknown-, -time unknown-.**

 **-location unknown-**

Void.

Nothing but an endless void.

How long did he wander? He was not sure. How far? He couldn't tell.

 _Nothing exists but empty space and you. And you... are but a thought._

It sounded spiteful. Did someone say this? Or were these thoughts?

Questions with no answers. Voices without faces. A journey without purpose. A land with neither shape nor form.

He only knew three things: It was dark, he was freezing, and he was lonely.

With shivering muscles, he continued onward into the void. It loomed. It hungered. It consumed.

Time itself stretched, contorted and lost all meaning. Nothing else existed. Only him and… this little cabin in the corner of his eye. Unsure whether or not it was always there or how far it stood in the distance, he thought he could find shelter against this rigid cold.

Some senses within him screamed to stay away, but the promise of warmth drowned out all thoughts of reason.

In a matter of a few strides, he stood in front of the door of the cabin. It felt unnatural how quickly he managed to close the distance, but he did not care.

He tried to grab the door handle but he could not catch it. Somehow, it was always out of his reach. He did not understand, as his forehead was a few inches away from the door itself, yet he was unable to grab this freakin' handle.

Everytime he tried to catch it, the handle and his paw stretched into infinity and he thought that he was looking through the wrong end of binoculars.

After mindlessly trying a thousand times, he gave up.

He took one step backwards and the cabin wasn't bigger than a bug in his vision, and all he wished for was some warmth.

Then, it happened. Luck struck him in this land without meaning. The cabin became engulfed in flames and he could feel the chill be chased away by the flame's raging heat. Even from this distance, he felt as if he was right next to the cabin again.

Time passed, but he could not tell how much or in which direction. He stood and bathed in the soothing feeling, until he heard the screams. Eardrum-ripping screams of pain and agony. Those screams sounded familiar, too familiar. He took a step back towards the cabin and looked through a big window in the front. He saw dark figures moving, almost dancing behind the flames.

These figures, he felt like he should know them. It hit him like lightning, the shadows in the flames, the cries of anguish and despair. Behind the window, his family was ablaze.

In absence of anything heavy to smash through the window, Charles threw his fist against the glass, in desperate hope to save his loved ones from the flames. All his efforts were in vain.

The figures came closer. Charles could see the charred fur on his father, his mother had spots burnt down to the bone, the eyelids of Lilith were on fire, the tail of Tiberius was nothing more than a living torch. Suddenly, they stopped their jerky movements and stood in unison. They spoke, all of their muzzles moved.

 _You did this to us, Charles; you did this._ They repeated it over and over, each time it became more twisted and contorted, until it became a canon-esque chant.

"NO!" he screamed, "NO, NO, NOOOO!" but he could not speak over the voices. As they echoed back and forth in his skull, he continued to slam his fist against the glass.

 _you did this to- you did - us - did this- YOU DID- TO US- YOU DID- THIS TO- DID THIS TO US-_

From one moment to the next, there was nothing. Only him, the silence and the void. He hid his face in his palms and cried. He cried what felt like day and night, until... the rain came.

 **6th of August 2006 05:43 a.m.**

 **Riverclearing, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Charles jumped up from the bench with a shriek, lost his balance, and fell muzzle first into a puddle of mud on the ground. Shivering, he got up from the ground and sat himself back down on the wet wood.

 _Just that dream, nothing more than that dream again._

This dream reoccurred thrice this week, and always when he fell asleep sober.

He realised that his clothes were soaked down to his fur and far beneath that. The rain from above had chewed through all of his fabrics and the stiff breeze brought an icy chill down to his bones.

 _How could it become this cold so quickly?_ , he thought as he moved over to his makeshift tent between the bushes. To his greatest dismay, the mattress he scored three days ago, along with the ground, were a damp and muddy mess.

 _And this is why you will never survive, Charlie-boy. As long as everything is sunshine and rainbows, you idiot don't give anything a second damn thought. Sooner rather than later, your stupidity will cost you your life( ics),_ his own voice chimed up in his head. But this voice was not his normal one. This one seemed older, experienced, dominant. He realized it was his guttural singing voice, the one he used in his band.

Hugging himself, he moved into the shrubbery and hunched down to get out of the wind. It helped a little, but not much.

 _What are you going to do now?_ the wise Charles asked.

 _I don't know,_ he answered his own mind in a desperate, almost childlike voice.

 _You do know. You could live like this, being a bum, at the mercy of the world or…_

Or what?

Don't you see it? That girl had shown you a door. Just step through it.

 _I am not going to take charity. I don't need this!_

 _Yes, you do. You are sixteen with no roof over your head, no income, no steady meals, no purpose. All you have to do, is to take up a job. This has nothing to do with pity or pride. This is work and your own survival._

His own reasoning wore his defence down. All his belongings were in the kitbag which was stored neatly in the sidecar of his motorcycle. He did not care enough to tear down his tent, so he left it as it was. All he feared now was getting stuck on the dirt road and not being able to reach the farm of Lydia's family. He hopped on his bike, started the engine and released the clutch a little.

Halfway up the road, he gave too much gas and the back wheel dug itself into the mud.

"FUCK!" he exclaimed in aggravation.

Charles got off of the bike and rocked it back and forth, while giving a bit of gas during the forward motion. Every time he did, the wheel grinded the dirt and spurted it backwards.

"Come on, Michelle, baby. We can do this," he said while giving her another strong push and turning the throttle on the handle.

This turning became a full throttle as Michelle suddenly found grip and jerked forward. The sudden jerk of the bike pulled Charles with it. He lost balance and fell face first into the wet dirt again.

He did not care about the grime on his clothes or in his fur. His bike was freed from the muddy clutches and her engine purred invitingly.

Charles wiped as much dirt from his face as he could before swinging on the bike and driving off carefully, avoiding any puddles along the way.

Soon enough, he reached the asphalt road and followed the directions that Lydia gave him yesterday.

"Follow the main street, until you come to the 'No leaving Clearwater'-sign. You can't overlook it, since someone stole the 'w' of 'Now'. From that sign, follow the road for half a mile. Take the road on your left and find me at the first house you see."

 **6th of August 2006 06:58 a.m.**

 **Gaupa Farm, Clearwater, Boarderland**

The rain subsided a few minutes before he drove onto the driveway of the farm, stopped the engine of his bike and took his the steps up the porch.

From afar, he could see that light was already burning in the farm house, so he concluded that the family was already up and about. Reluctantly, he knocked on the door. He heard some mild comotion from inside.

One moment later, a rustic lynx, apparently the patriarch of the farm, opened the door.

"Yeah? What d'you want?" he asked in a gruff voice. His dialect was so different that Charles thought he might have been at the wrong house.

"Um. Yeah. Hello, my name is Charles."

"I ain't care 'bout tha'. What d'you want?"

Charles was cold, he knew he looked like shit, and he was out of options, so he straightened his back and mustered all his courage.

"Sir, I fell out of luck. You see, I'm traveling the country and now, my cash was stolen."

"So?"

"So, I was hoping that you may need a… uh… helping hand around here."

"Nope," was the answer of the old patriarch and he attempted to slam the door in Charles' muzzle.

"Daddy, wait," came a voice from across the hallway. It was definitely Lydia's voice that chimed from what Charles presumed to be the kitchen.

"What is it, Lydie?"

"Don't send him away. You remember what the pastor said about giving shelter to the ones in need?"

'Pastor' and 'in need'… A word and a phrase that had Charles involuntary flinch. He was not keen on either of those terms.

"Ask him inside to let him clean himself up at least. Don't you see that he's not doing well?"

"Lydie, I ain't invitin' any bum here."

Another word that stung Charles.

"Daddy, please. You did the same for Michael when he needed help. Let him clean himself up and we'll see what he has to offer."

"Mikey was different," he said. He could have mustered a stare against anyone in town, but not his own daughter, with her big pleading eyes. It took less than a second for him to cave under this stare.

"You, and your golden heart will be our downfall, sweety," the older lynx said while giving his daughter a hug. Lydia gave Charles a wink with a friendly smile, while he mouthed a silent 'thank you'.

"Alright, Snarles, come on in. Worsh yourself. We'll talk afterwards." He made way for Charles while simultaneously waving him in lazily.

"Uhm… It's 'Charles'."

"Don't care. Go on, make it quick."

Charles made his way to the showers after he got the directions.

"Uh… Th-there should be seven minutes of hot water left," Lydia said. "I'm so sorry, but we only heat the water in the morning and in the evening…"

Charles could have sworn he saw a faint blush underneath her fur.

"I… I will bring some spare clothes."

She dashed away quickly and Charles gazed after her, with a smile curving the edges of his snout.

Lydia did not lie. There were about seven minutes of hot water left in the tank, and whatever deity may help him, those were the best seven minutes he could have imagined. Having nothing but a cold river stream to clean, this shower was an exception that was created directly in heaven. Sadly, it took more than just a meesely seven minutes for him to clean himself. In fact, he was embracing the warmth and forgot about the time. The shower went cold before he could apply any of the furpoo which was stored in the shower.

 _Yep, you only know what you're missing when you don't have it anymore_ , he thought, _but giving you something and then taking it away immediately is like a kick to the nuts._

But he wanted to have a deep cleansing, so he took one of the furpoo bottles. He opened the bottle and took a whiff. This reminded him of yesterday. Certainly, this was Lydia's bottle.

He did not put much thought into it. The smell was as aromatic as he remembered it yesterday.

He was in the middle of drying himself with a towel as he heard three quick knocks on the door, followed by a note sliding under it. Curiously, he picked it up.

"It may not fit you perfectly, we don't have a tailor at this time, but it was the best I could find. Be sure to thank Michael later. But I'm sure you will look handsome in it."

The note ended with a winky-face.

Smiling to himself after reading the note, he got himself dressed with the borrowed clothes.

Lydia surely wasn't lying about the fit. The red and black checkered button-down hugged his form, although it looked more like a dress, given its length.

As for his pants, he got dungarees.

 _I think I see a certain pattern in the style around here,_ he thought while chuckling to himself.

Even though he'd shortened the straps as much as possible, he still had to roll up the ends of the legs, so they wouldn't drag over the floor.

Lastly, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and concluded that this 'Michael' must be on the bigger side.

Charles made his way to where he heard soft chatter and reached the kitchen of the house. He instantly noticed the absence of a matriarch, but these questions could wait. Now, it was all about giving a good impression and get the job as a farmhand.

"Sit down, boy," the lynx said and Charles followed the command.

"Name's Harald," the feline said, introducing himself in a low, unfriendly voice but offered Charles his paw for a pawshake, which Charles accepted.

"Hm. A firm grip. Reckon you're worth your salt. You ever work on a farm, boy?"

Charles knew better than to lie at this point. "No sir, but I'm willing to work hard."

"Might be a little too big for your britches," Harry mumbled to himself, paused and gave Charles a stern glare for a few seconds. "Alright, kit, you get one single chance. We'll see if I can make use of you."

He turned to his daughter, his tone a tad bit more lighthearted: "Be a dear and show the boy around and meet me at the hops silo when y'all are done."

"Gladly," she answered, followed by an almost ecstatic "Come on, the day won't wait for us," towards Charles.

The rain had faded into a drizzle before Lydia gave Charles the grand tour.

"I'm so glad that Daddy didn't give you a hard time. I… umm… hoped that you would come here," she said and Charles did not miss the quick looks she gave him from the corner of her eye.

"Me too, Lydia. You can't believe how pleasant a warm shower feels."

Lydia's skin beneath her fur heated up significantly as she imagined this buck in the shower.

"Ummm… ah yes, the fields," she said as they reached their first destination.

"Here we produce corn and hops, and on the big field further down the road, we grow wheat. The corn is for the chickens and turkeys on Kathy's farm and in turn, we get their fertilizer."

"Fertilizer?"

"Chicken poop, you dummy," she said with a broad grin. A moment later, she opened her eyes in shock. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… sorry for calling you names, you said you were never on a farm, you couldn't've know that."

While chuckling, he put a paw on her shoulder. "It's alright, no damage done. Where I come from, we greet each other with insults."

"Yo-you aren't mad?"

He shook his head, to which she relaxed and sighed.

"Phew, what a relief."

Realizing that he still had his paw on her shoulder, she tried to change the subject. "Shall we move onward with the tour? Daddy won't like it when we waste time lollygaggin'."

"Ah, right, yes, of course, let's go," Charles said while quickly removing his paw.

They neared one of the two barns which were both located on the farm. Judging from the door that was ajar, and the tractor that stood inside, Charles knew this barn was used as a garage for the farm vehicles and tools.

Before Lydia could explain this fact herself, they heard a rather loud "DAGNABBIT, you fudging motor a-hole!", followed by a loud clattering, which sounded like a collision between a hard stone and metal.

A few more steps and Charles could see a fox. He was a foot taller than him and a bit chubby.

The tod sighed. "Now I have two things to fix. Great. Just Great."

Charles noticed the large dent in the chassis of the tractor. _That explains the bang. He must have hit it with a wrench of something,_ he thought to himself

Lydia giggled and greeted him. "Good morning, Michael."

Michael's face lit up immediately, like the incident moments earlier had never happened. "Hey Lydia, good morning. Sleep well? And who's your friend?"

"First, good, thank you. And second, this is Charles, my dad's new farmhand. Charles, Michael. Michael, Charles."

"Ah, good to have some help around here. Especially since Harry wants to do some woodchopping tomorrow."

Michael offered a paw to Charles and he saw that the tod's knuckles were scraped open and bleeding slightly. _He couldn't have punched the dent in himself, couldn't he?_ , Charles thought but took his paw nevertheless.

"Nice to meet you, and thanks for the spare clothes. Mine have seen better days," he said to the portly tod.

"Ah, don't mention it. I'm glad that I could help. Anyway, I gotta finish this before tomorrow. We'll all talk later, alright?" Michael said while turning back to the engine block.

"Alright," Lydia cided and gently tugged on Charles' arm to lead him to their next destination.

They came across a little greenhouse which held a variety of vegetables, such as tomatoes, eggplants, radish, and bell pepper. The second to last stop was a rather large field with wildflowers and ten wooden boxes in the middle. Since the rain had subsided, Charles could faintly hear buzzing, coming from the general direction of those boxes.

"Here, we keep our bees for the honey production. You shouldn't go near it as long as you are not wearing the jumpsuit. Beestings can be nasty," Lydia explained.

Lastly, they met Harald next to two large silos and the second barn that occupied the farmland.

"Alright, dear, I'll take it from here," the patriarch said to his daughter.

"Come on, let's see if those muscles are just for show. Help me haul the barrels into the basement." Harald slapped a wooden barrel next to him for emphasis.

Charles did as ordered. For the first hour, he was able to carry the containers, one at a time, but afterwards, he had to switch his technique to rolling them. Harald, on the other paw, was unphased by the containers' weight and continued to carry them on his shoulder.

Forenoon passed, and somewhere around 1 p.m., they managed to transfer all of the thirty-seven barrels from the barn to the cellar. As if it was on cue, Charles, Harry and Michael over at the garage-barn, heard a chime of a triangle. Charles knew that this signal meant lunchtime and he found it so cliché, that a chuckle escaped him.

As they entered the dining room of the farmhouse, he thought he would see the matriarch of the family. Not having seen her in the morning struck him as a little odd, but seeing Lydia wearing an apron now, gave him a suspicion that Lydia was the only femammal in the household.

He discarded his intentions to ask after he smelled the food on the table. It was a baked chicken, already cut in four quarters, with potatoes. It already smelled like it was blessed by the angels themselves, but after the past week, this smell brought Charles to the brink of his self-control, not to launch at the dinner table and devour the meal like a savage beast.

They all took their seat and Lydia put everyone's portion on their plates, as well as for herself.

"Lydia, what'd I put you in med-school for if they ain't teachin' you no biology? You should know that rabbits eat plants," Harald said over the table.

"You should look to your side, dad," she said while pointing to Charles with her fork.

He looked over and stared in amazement as he saw his first rabbit eating meat and quite vigorously at that. The half-rabbit had already ripped the leg from its socket and had stuffed a big chunk of it in his maw. Charles soon realised that he was being watched by everyone at the table, so he put the leg down, swallowed what he had in his mouth without chewing and started to apologize.

"I'm sorry. It just smelled so good and after I took the first bite, I… I couldn't hold myself back."

"Aww, thank you," Lydia basically beamed at him after he complimented her cooking.

"It's not your manners; it's just freaky to see a rabbit eating chicken," Harald commented.

"It's not a problem, right?" Charles asked sheepishly.

Harald scoffed. "No. Least you don't throw a hissy fit over some special diet."

And with that, everyone continued with their meal.

The lunch went by quickly and Harald headed towards the porch as Lydia and Michael took care of the dishes. Charles followed Harald moments later, finding him outside, smoking a self-rolled cigarette.

 _Damn, I would kill for a cigarette now. Should I ask him? What kind of impression would that make? Ah, what the hell… ,_ he thought as he approached him.

"Harald?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask for a cigarette?"

"If you need to." With his muzzle, Harald pointed at a pouch on the table next to him.

In it, Charles found tobacco and papers, which he used to roll a crude cigarette for himself.

"This is all out of kilter, you know what you're doin'?"

"No sir, I'm used to cigarettes in packs."

"Hm… Typical for a city mammal. I can getcha your own pouch, if you'd like."

"Thank you, sir."

"'Course ain't nothin' free. I'll just pay ya less."

"Oh, ok. Yeah, that is fair. Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

A few minutes later, Michael came through the door.

"Hey, Michael. How's the tractor coming along?" the lynx asked.

"Almost done, Harry," the tod replied.

"Once you done, hook up the trailer, head to the Heffersons, and get the malt. It's already paid for, so don't worry."

"Will do." The tod gave a lazy salute and headed back to the tractor.

"Hops? Malt? Are you brewing beer on this farm?" Charles asked after he put out his cigarette in the nearby ashtray.

"Yup. The best one in this whole town. Nothing like the stuff you get in the city," the patriarch replied.

"May I try it someday?"

"Alright, AFTER we've finished work today."

For the remaining hours of the day, Charles was kept busy filling and hauling sacks of hops from the silos and later, together with Michael, malt from the trailer over to the giant brewing kettle in the barn, which Harald referred to as 'The Brewery'.

"Alright, that's it for today. Tomorrow, we'll need wood. You think you can handle an axe and a chainsaw?"

"Yeah, of course." Charles had no idea if he could, but he was pumped from today. Usually, Charles hated any kind of work, aside from restoring his bike, but this physical labour made him somewhat happy. His fur was damp, his back ached, but he felt satisfied with himself, his situation and his surroundings. All he wanted was for this to continue. Maybe not today, but definitely tomorrow.

"I figure that you've never had an axe in your paws," the lynx said, after handing Charles the tobacco pouch. "Just mind yourself, you're no use if you are missing a limb."

Charles did not reply, but fiddled with the tobacco and the rolling paper instead.

"Besides, I'm not willing to pay your medical bill."

With this, they both enjoyed a smoke and waited for the triangle to chime them in for dinner.

After dinner, a bugserole, Harald asked his two farmworkers if they wanted to give their fresh brew a taste test on the porch, which Charles accepted eagerly, but Michael stuck to his lemonade. Even though the beer needed to ferment a little longer in the barrels for 'its signature wooden aftertaste', as Harald put it, Charles thought that it was one of the finest beers he had tasted in his young life. It had just the right amount of bitterness with a sweet sensation on its way down his throat.

Lydia popped her head out of the front door and said, "Charles? I made your room ready. It's in the attic. I will show you once you are finished."

"Awesome, thank you," he replied. He drank the rest of his glass and got up.

Lydia and Charles arrived at the door, which his new home would lie beyond.

"So, here we are," she said, sheepishly.

"I hope you like it. I also allowed myself to wash your clothes. I hope you... don't... mind?" she said, while she gingerly avoided eye contact.

"Not at all, thank you so much," he said. A blanket of silence engulfed them.

 _Say it, say that you are thankful for all of this. Tell her that she rescued you, that she came to you when you needed her the most. Tell her, you beefy idiot. Tell her, come on._

But Lydia broke the silence first. "A-also the water for the sh-shower is heated up, so... enjoy-good-night."

And with these words, the last three merged into a single one, given their speed she said them, she scurried into the room adjacent to his and left him in this blanket of silence from before.

 _Fuck, fucked it up again. Good job, idiot,_ he thought to himself as he entered his room. The best way to describe it, would be cozy. The room was just big enough to fit a bed for medium-sized mammals, a nightstand, and a closet, but Charles didn't mind it in the least bit. He had a bed to sleep in again, with the added bonus of not having to share the room with a sibling.

After enjoying a much needed shower, he put on the freshly washed clothes, got back to his room and slept like a wee baby.

 **7th of August 2006 06:12 a.m.**

 **Gaupa Farm, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Charles was woken by a knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Good morning, breakfast is ready."

"I'll be right down, Lydia."

Strangely enough, Charles was in no way tired, nor was he his usual grump in the morning. He was almost jumping out of bed to get ready for the day.

After breakfast, Harald drove Charles and Michael to the nearby woods. Together, all three of them chopped down quite a number of trees. Charles learned quickly how to handle a chainsaw, how to force a tree to fall in the right direction using a wedge and hammering it with the backside of an axe to drive it in and so on. After a tree had fallen, they cleaned the branches off of said tree, cut it into handy half-meter-long logs and threw them on the trailer.

In the early afternoon, the trio arrived back at the farm, the trailer filled to the brim with wood.

Charles' next task was to split the logs on a chopping block, while Michael and Harald tended to other work.

He chopped away for the next few hours. He was sweating and the sun burned on his back. It didn't take him long to discard his shirt and roll up his pants, effectively transforming them into shorts.

Just at the right time, Lydia approached him, a tray in her paws. On said tray, she balanced a jug of ice tea, complete with cubes and one glass. She offered it to him with a broad smile. He accepted gladly, but earned a bewildered look after he filled the glass and offered it to her. Reluctantly, she accepted the glass and giggled, as Charles cheered with the jug in his paw.

Within two big gulps, he finished the jug, only leaving the ice cubes behind, thanked Lydia and got back to splitting wood.

And so, this day went by, as well as the following ones. One night, Charles asked Harald, if he was willing to sell him a box of bottled beer for a part of his salary, to which Harald agreed.

Now, Charles and Michael were sitting on the porch after a long day on the farm. The tall bunnyfox had a cigarette in one paw and a glass of beer in the other. Michael, on the other paw, had mixed the beer that Charles had offered him with lemonade and declined every offer for a smoke. They had pleasant small talk until their topics swayed to questions which Charles could ask neither Harald nor Lydia.

"So, Mike, I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, shoot," the tod replied.

"How come Harald has this typical farmer accent and Lydia hasn't?"

"Hm, I think that's because of that Pawtube she likes to watch. She always watches those comedy channels like Gray William Pawson or that other guy, what was his name?" he snapped his fingers as he tried to remember, "that one warthog. That ventriloquist."

"Jeff Done-Ham?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed as he slammed his paw on the table. "That was his name. Thank you, I always have a hard time remembering those bleeping names."

 _Did he just censored himself_ Charles thought to himself.

"That makes sense, yeah."

After another moment of silence, Charles decided to ask the most burning question in the only way he knew, bluntly.

"So, this one thing keeps bugging me."

"What is that, buddy?"

"I see Lydia working around the house, but I don't see Mrs. Gaupa around here."

"Ah, that's where you're coming from," Michael replied before taking a sip of his drink.

He paused for a moment.

"Her name was Marilyn… she is not with us anymore."

"May I ask what happened?"

"Harry told me that there were complications during Lydia's birth. This is why he treats Lydia as the most precious thing in the world. I guess that he thinks that Marilyn's spirit lives on through their daughter."

"Yeah, I think I get it. Quite the sad story revolving around them."

"Yup. And let me give you a tip: Don't talk to him about his wife. And if you do, don't tell him that I told you. He can get angry if someone is prying into his life."

"Alright, I will remember that. Thanks for the advice."

"Anyday. But it's getting late. I will hit the hay and you should too. Tomorrow is another hard day."

They both finished their drinks and Charles carried the box of beer up into his room and put it under his bed. From there, he decided to gulp down another bottle before finally having a good rest himself.

 **12th of August 2006 5:49 p.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

Furiously, Lilith was banging on her brothers door. "Come on! Open up!"

"No!" came the muffled reply

"Look, I miss Charlie as much as you do, we all do, but shutting yourself off from everyone does not help anyone! Get your ass up; we can't be late for practice again."

"Do you think I care? It is not the same without him."

"You can open up now, or I break your door down. I count down from five. Five… Four… Three..."

Suddenly, she heard a click from the lock, then a twist of the door handle and the door opened. Before her stood a miserable shadow of her brother. "What now?!" he barked at her.

She knew he would look miserable, but this look, after he locked himself up for the last two days, was totally unexpected. His fur was an ungroomed and unwashed mess, his eyes had dark circles underneath them; they looked dull and somewhat sunken into their sockets.

It took Lilith a short moment to find her words, but as they came out, they were as confident as she could muster.

"Listen, I have an idea. We could use our band and maybe the reach of Daniel to bring Charles back."

"How so?"

"While you wallowed in your self-pity, I actually used the time and wrote a song. Look."

She handed him a sheet of paper, full of notes and scribbled out lines. Tiberius took his time to read through the lyrics.

"Hm. This might work. Did you figure out a rhythm already?"

"Of course. What do you think? _I'm_ not lazy," she snapped at him.

"Alright, alright, I got the hint, now zip it."

"Get a shower, you need it. Meet me in twenty minutes outside. We need to catch a bus."

 **12th of August 2006 6:58 p.m.**

 **HiFi-Forge, Zootopia**

Tiberius and Lilith barely caught the bus. They were late again, to the great dismay of their band members, who were already waiting outside.

"There they finally come. At least they are almost on time," Baron said to Francis as he threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.

"Coming with the bus? Where is your meatbrain brother?" Francis asked as the siblings approached.

"He… he…" Tiberius stammered, visibly trembling.

"Let's get inside first. We will explain everything," Lilith took over, as she saw that her brother was close to a breakdown.

After Lilith was done reciting what had happened, no one knew what to say at first.

"Shit," was all that Baron could say before pulling Tiberius into a hug. Tiberius was grateful for this gesture. He needed this more than ever, as he buried his muzzle into the shoulder of Baron and let his tears flow free.

"Are you alright, honey?" Francis asked Lilith.

"It hurts, but I'm ok. Can you do me a favour, sweety?"

"Everything," Francis replied with a vigorous nod.

"Get Dan here, please."

Without further questioning, Francis got up and made his way to Daniel's office.

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel had arrived in their band-apartment and Lilith was done explaining her plan. They wanted to ask Daniel to use his reach so that he could bring their next song into the radio. Lilith's hope was that Charles would hear that song somehow and feel that all of them, his friends and his family, want him back in their lives.

"Of course, we would pay any fees that come up."

Daniel, laid back as he was, took his time to study the lyrics, and the notesheet that Lilith provided.

"Hm… Yeah, I'm all up for this, but not only you guys want him back. Let's show him that the whole Forge wants him back!"

"What do you mean?" Lilith asked cluelessly.

"Y'all knock on every apartment here and tell them that I have an announcement! This is going to be big. B-I-G, big, I tell ya!"

The band did as they were told and soon, the main hall was filled with mammals, engaging in muttered conversations as to what all this fuss was about.

Daniel already stood on the small stage of the Forge, making him visible to all of the mammals present.

"Listen up, musicians! Some of you know the Harbingers, right?"

Some affirmative murmuring.

"This band has lost one of their frontmammals. Charles, to be exact. He ran away two weeks ago."

Daniel let this information sink in for a moment. He saw the shocked expressions on almost all of the gathered musicians and realised that Charles might've gained more popularity with them than Daniel, the Harbingers, or Charles himself had imagined.

"But! The band has a plan. Everyone who wants to be part of this plan say, 'Yeah!'"

The 'Yeah'-shouts came from everywhere in the main hall.

"The band has written a song and I need some of you to sing the lines alongside them."

Rather quickly, one musician had a question. "And how can we non-singers help? I mean, you aren't planning an orchestra, right?"

"Some of us could keep an eye out for him," said a different musician. "We, for example, have a few concerts soon."

"Of course! The more eyes, the better," said another mammal.

"Charles is a good guy; always good for a laugh and a beer. Count me in."

"Me too!"

"You can count on me as well."

"And me!"

"Let's do this. WHOOO!"

Lilith and Tiberius were touched by how proactive Daniel was and by the enthusiasm of their fellow musicians. Lilith had an idea and walked up to where Daniel was standing.

"Do you want us to name this collective?" She had to shout, to be heard.

"Sure."

"Yep."

"Of course."

"Do you have an idea?"

The answers nearly toppled over each other.

With a warm smile, Lilith said, "What do you think about 'Wild Flame'?"

Like before, the voices toppled over each other, with approval.

They were recording until the early hours. Daniel took lead in management, which consisted mostly of deciding who would sing together, who gets one or more solo lines and so on. He showed off his skill and talent in figuring out the best combination of voices.

Now, after the song was done, all of the musicians involved gave it a listen.

 _Cue: Wilde Flamme - Durch alle Gezeiten_

 _(As I said in the A/N, this is the song with the german lyrics.)_

"If all agree, I can get this published tomorrow," Daniel said as he stretched in his chair.

There was a general affirmative murmur, although the enthusiasm back in the hall was replaced with tiredness and contentment. This had truly been an exhausting day for everyone, but they accomplished something big today and everyone knew it.

Lilith took a glance towards her brother. He was standing over the mixer table, his paws supporting him and head hanging low. Her first reaction was worry, but as she moved closer, she something that filled her heart with joy. Her brother smiled again. Not a snarky grin, not an indifferent smirk, but a genuine and honest smile.

She put a paw on his shoulder and said, "We _will_ find him."

His answer, a whispered "Yes," was nothing more than an exhale.

"Yes, we will. One-hundred percent," he continued, now a bit louder, as he straightened up.

She hugged him and he appreciated her gesture. "Please, stay on track. I don't want both of my brothers to go missing; not physically, not mentally."

 **11th of August 2006 11:02 a.m.**

 **Gaupa Farm, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Early in the morning, Charles was tasked with trimming the long grass behind the brewery barn. Harald pushed a scythe into his paws and told him to get to work in Harald's typical rude fashion.

After his days on the Gaupa Farm, the bunnyfox got used to this treatment from the lynx, although he still did not understand why. He worked his ass off, never complained and still, he felt like an unwelcome visitor, almost as an intruder, in Harald's eyes.

But he was happy. Happy to have a roof over his head, three meals per day, an equally fulfilling as well as exhausting job and his chats with Michael and Lydia. Especially Lydia.

He really had nothing to complain about, aside from the scorching sun burning the fur on his bare back. One glance towards the sky told him that noon was approaching soon. This meant that his daily ritual could begin. He put the scythe in the grass, fished his tobacco pouch out of his pocket and started to roll a smoke. Once lit, he turned around towards the farmhouse and he already saw Lydia approaching with a jug of ice tea and a glass on a tray.

Everyday, she made sure that the tall bunny was well hydrated. He would always fill the glass for her, before drinking directly from the jug himself. This time, however, Charles noticed that she was acting a bit different.

Over the week, she had lost a bit of her shyness around him, but today, she seemed to have reverted back to her former behavior. He noticed that she only took sheepish glances towards him as well as fidgeting with her glass with both paws.

"Something on your mind, Lydia?" he asked and made a great effort to sound calm and warm.

She snapped her head up and her wide open eyes met with his.

"No! Um… Ok, yeah, actually… uh… there is this barnecue over at Kathy's farm and…"

"There is what now?"

This brought a nervous giggle out of her. "Oh, sorry, I always forget that you are not from around here. A-a barnecue is a barn party with a barbecue outside. Some young folk will be there and Kathy said that we might even get live music. Michael and some locals will be there too."

"That sounds like fun," he replied with a soft smile, "but why is it bothering you?"

"No, it's… I'm not bothered… I.. I just thought.. that... you-might-want-to-go-there-with-me?" she asked far too quickly, while she went back to stare at her hindpaws. "Only if you want, of course..."

"If I want? What a question; that sounds awesome! We could take my bike to get there," he said enthusiastically. "You have yourself a date."

After this slip of the tongue, it was his turn to stare at his hind paws and turn red as a beet under the fur on his muzzle.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Lydia decided to break the ice, "Sooo… around seven?"

"Around seven, it is."

"Alright, I'm excited already. See you later."

With these words, she snatched the tray with the empty jug and glass and left the flustered bunny behind in the grass.

 _Well, that was awkward,_ the voice in Charles' head commented. _But she didn't refuse the idea of a date. I guess that wasn't a mistake; just a happy little accident._

He put out his cigarette and got back to work.

 **11th of August 2006 7:23 p.m.**

 **Gaupa Farm, Clearwater, Boarderland**

Surfing on a wave of excitement and happiness, the afternoon went by in the blink of eye. Lydia prepared some bugburgers for Harald and she was ready for the barnecue.

Charles and Michael were already waiting for her on the bike. Charles was already sitting behind the handlebars and Michael had taken a seat in the sidecar.

With a spring in her step, Lydia approached them and swung herself behind Charles and wrapped her arms around his waist.

A wave of bittersweet memories flooded his brain. With him in the front, a fox in the side car and a girl in the back, it was like being catapulted a few weeks back, when the sibling trio headed out for their mischief.

"You alright, Charlie? Why aren't we driving?" he heard Lydia asking over his shoulder, her muzzle resting on it.

This stopped his train of thoughts. "Oh… I'm sorry; I was just remembering something."

He started the engine, hoping that this would stop any further questioning. He liked Michael and had even stronger feelings for Lydia, but he didn't want to open up to them, or anyone for that matter, about his recent past. For all they knew, he was eighteen, traveled through the land on his bike and fell out of luck. This was all they needed to know anyway.

The drive was short and soon enough, they were met by a brightly lit barn, as well as an equally bright porch, which seemed to stretch around the whole main house. In between both buildings laid a rather large patch of dirt, which was covered with straw. Their approach was noted by multiple bystanders, given the loud engine of Michelle, as well as her misfires, which started to act up again. This worried Charles slightly, but he pushed these thoughts aside for now, because now was the time for celebration and feeling good.

Before he could even fully stop, he saw a racoon jumping over the railing of the porch and bolting towards them. Even with the light from behind covering the figure's front in shadows, he had no doubt that this was Kathy.

He felt a yank on the bike as Lydia jumped off and ran towards her racoon friend.

From the not-so-far distance, he and Michael watched the girls exchange of pleasantries, reserved only for the young and energetic femammals on this planet. Hugging, snuggling, pecks on the left and right cheek and some happily squealed greetings.

After this display of affection the girls came over to the bike and Michael maneuvered himself out of the sidecar.

"Michael! So glad to see you again!" Kathy almost shouted and pulled the tod into a tight hug. Then, she whispered something in his ear, which Charles could not pick up over the rumbling of the bike engine, although he saw Michael's tail twitching and his knees shivered for a split second. Charles had a good guess what the racoon told the tod.

Next, it was his turn to be greeted by the almost ecstatic racoon. She bent herself over the handlebars and pulled the bunnyfox in a hug as well.

"I'm so glad that you could make it! Just park your monster over there by the trucks," she said, but was not letting him go immediately. Over her shoulder, he noticed Michael checking out Kathy's rear while she was stretching herself over to Charles. So he shot him a knowing look, complete with a wicked smile and one raised eyebrow. In that moment, the burly fox realised that he was caught in the act of ogling and reverted his gaze instantly.

Finally, Kathy let go of Charles' neck and he parked the bike in a free space between two trucks. As he made his way back to his friends, he was stopped by a masculine voice, coming from one of the trucks.

"Howdy partner! Nice scoot ya got there. Congratulations, she's a real sleek beauty."

He turned his head towards the voice and saw a dingo, lazily leaning against the grill of a red truck with huge tires, presumably his own car. This mammal could have been the sole inspiration of every cliché for a farmer. A bit on the heavier side, rather tall, suntanned fur, sporting a ten-gallon hat on his head and a wheat stem between his lips. A quick glance also revealed an acoustic guitar standing next to the dingo.

Charles was definitely not accustomed to such friendly behaviour. He was used to the rather cold shoulder from the mammals of Zootopia and his former classmates, as well as the harsh treatment he got from Harald and so this open friendliness from a stranger was a new experience.

The only answer he could think of was an awkward "Uh… thanks… partner?"

"Aaa'righty, hope ta see ya later in the barn. Now you have a blast. Yee-haw!" the dingo said with a smile.

 _Yep, I'm definitely not in Zootopia anymore,_ Charles thought to himself as he started to look for his friends. He quickly found them at the entrance of the open barn.

"Ah, there is the buffcake. Come, I was just about to start the tour," Kathy said while gesturing towards the barn.

"Ok, first, we have the beer kegs and other drinks. For my bestie and her friends, it's free of charge, of course. If you go through the back, you will come to the spit-roast. Be sure to grab some of that turkey, as I personally chose the juiciest ones from the coop. Oh and please, please, pleeeeease be here in an hour. Bark agreed to play for us tonight," she said while pointing to an area that had to be a stage, given the drumset and amps placed on the slightly elevated wooden floor.

Lydia stopped dead in her tracks with wide eyes. "You. Are. Kidding. Right? No way you got Bark to play here!"

Kathy smirked. "The one and only."

The lynx's muzzle hung agape as she was at a loss of words. Charles had an idea and he took action. He walked over to one of the metallic kegs, grabbed four regular sized plastic cups, and filled them to the top with beer. All but one, which he mixed with a can of lemonade from the cooler between the kegs. He had to use both paws to carry the cups and the half full can over to his friends.

His plan to rip his Lydia out of her stupor was a great success as she eagerly accepted the offered beer and took a big swig.

' _Your' Lydia? Did you really just think that? Oh my, oh my, Charlie-boy, you are in love._

 _Am I? Welp, yeah, I guess I am._

Now that he was aware of his feelings, he realised three things at once. First of all, he must have been crushing on her ever since that day at the river, given that his stomach was tingling every time she was around. Secondly, the feelings might be mutual, since she always made an effort to be near him whenever possible, even if she was somewhat flustered in these situations. The daily ice tea ritual was just one of a pawful of examples. Lastly, Harald's dislike towards him. He probably saw the spark between them before they did themselves. Additionally, she was his little princess and he was nothing more than a farmhand. A vagabond who could take her away if they both so chose.

He made a mental note to clear this issue between him and Harald tomorrow morning. This could potentially crush the distrust from the patriarchal lynx.

For a few moments, no one said a word, until Kathy turned towards Michael. "Ah, yes, right. Michael?"

The moment he was asked, he had the cup raised to his lips, so he just hummed back to let the racoon know he was listening.

"You said you are good at tinkering with stuff. I have this little machine, but it's just not really working anymore, for me at least, you know? Can you take a look at it?"

Charles raised a brow, having an idea of what the implications were. Michael, however, seemed to catch none of them, as his unphased agreement was either him being oblivious or totally out of character.

Now that Charles and Lydia were alone, he suggested that they should grab some of the spit-roasted turkey since they skipped dinner for this very reason. She agreed eagerly and they made their way to the backside of the barn.

Charles was impressed by how much effort Kathy and her family put into this barneque. The area behind the barn was not only occupied by an open fire and the spit-roast on top of it, but also a crude ring of narrow tables and foldable benches. In the middle, a middle-aged racoon turned the roast where various types of poultry were impaled on.

"Ah, Lydia! And lil' Kathy's friend's new friend, righ'?" The racoon waved him and Lydia over as they approached the entrance of the circle of tables.

"Mah lil' girl told me ta make sure that I stuff ya like a thanksgivin'-turkey, and hoo boy howdy, Imma gonna do just tha'."

Without waiting for any form of response from the slightly dumbfounded couple, he sliced a few strips from the grilled turkey with a filleting knife and dropped them on two paper plates on the nearby table. He took the plates and met the couple halfway.

"You're that meat eater bunny, righ'?" he said as he pushed the plate into Charles' paws.

Charles answered with a simple nod and accepted the offered plate.

After they were seated and Lydia was halfway through her meal, while Charles finished his already, he wanted to know who the guy was that made Lydia so flustered.

"So, yeah... Who is this 'Bark' bloke?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Who is Bark? That is like… Have you heard of Judy Hopps, the first bunny cop ever?"

 _If only she knew,_ he sighed internally. _But I will never tell her that._

She noticed the slightly pained reaction, misinterpreted it as if she insulted him and switched into her apologizing mode immediately.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Sorry-sorry-sorry. I always forget that you aren't from here. So, Bark Shelton was a local farmer, but he got famous with his country music and is now traveling the country. And today, he even plays here, in his hometown, where it all started. You know, he is somewhat of an idol to me. I don't want to be a farmer and live here my whole life. This is why I go to med-school"

She glanced over, seeing that the buck's expression did not change as he was deep in thought of his former home. So, she tried to cheer him up and she knew just how.

"Aw, come on, don't be so gloomy. Here, I got something for you." She leaned in, aimed her muzzle at his cheek and planned to plant a quick peck on it to cheer him up again.

The shifting next to him broke Charles' stupor. He turned his head to the right and Lydia planted her kiss square on his lips. The accidental kiss was broken far too quickly for both of their liking. Too stunned to move, both kept still, their lips only mere inches away from each other.

Lydia did not know if it was the beer, the bonfire, the atmosphere of this barneque, or simply that she accidentally breached a border, but she found a glowing ball of courage within herself.

With a whispered 'Ah, screw it', she wrapped her hands around Charles' neck and leaned in for another kiss. No more beating around the bush this time. And he, still a bit overwhelmed, accepted the gentleness of her mouth with glee. Now, with his upper body fully turned towards her, he instinctively put his paws on either side of her waist, causing her to purr softly into the kiss.

The kiss ended and both sighed in contentment. Her tender paws now leaving his neck, she placed one of them on the left side of his chest, snuggled her head on his right shoulder and her free paw left to lay lazily in her lap. During her repositioning, he turned halfway back to the table, so she could lean on him comfortably and he put his muscular arm around her shoulders.

She sighed again and confessed. "I have wanted to do that for a long time, you know? Actually, ever since I met you at the river."

"You're not the only one," he answered in a low, almost whispered tone.

Half an hour went by as they simply enjoyed each other's company and closeness, the half-full plate of food totally forgotten by Lydia. Charles, on the other paw, was totally aware of the plate. His free paw snuck towards it, but got swatted by Lydia's paw before he could snatch a slice of the delicious turkey.

"Hey, that's mine," she playfully protested. "You aren't cuddling with me just to get to my food, are you?"

"Guilty as charged, cutie," he replied with a chuckle.

"You're awful," she giggled as she grabbed the slice he tried to steal and put it close under his nose. "But I'm willing to share."

He gladly took a small bite. She then nibbled on the piece herself. They shared the rest of the plate like this, going back and forth nibbling on the same slice together.

They were watched by two sets of eyes from a distance, one belonging to a flirty racoon and the other to a happy-go-lucky fox.

"Finally," the racoon girl said. "I have been wondering when they would finally hit it off."

"You knew about this? How?" the tod asked, still a bit fazed by his afterglow.

"We are girls with mobile phones. What do you think, big boy?"

"Makes sense. Sorry for that dense question."

"You're forgiven for this and for the next nine-hundred and ninety-nine dense questions for what you did earlier, stud-muffin."

"Ah, yeah, that was awesome," he replied while the images of the 'tinkering' flashed before his dreamy eyes, forcing a goofy grin on his muzzle. "Shall we go over to them?"

"Nah, foxy, let them have their moment. We should go over to the barn and grab a drink. Come on," she gently commanded as she tugged on his sleeve.

"Yep, a cold beer-pop is exactly what I need now."

The cuddling between the fresh couple, that lasted for about an hour, was interrupted by a buzzing sound, which sounded familiar in the bunnyfox's ears. This was definitely an instrument or a microphone plugged in into an amplifier.

"A'ight folks, it's good to be back in town. Once our twanger stops ogling the fine gals…" they heard the introduction from the band over at the barn.

Lydia gasped. "They'll start any second now." She shifted away from Charles and got up from the bench, drawing a slightly disappointed groan from him. He clearly didn't want this separation to happen. Reluctantly, he got up himself and followed his lynx.

They made their way through the gathered mammals and arrived in front of the stage just shortly before the guitarist finished tuning his instrument.

The coyote in front of the microphone, the same bloke that had greeted Charles earlier, noticed Charles with the lynx next to him. He gave them a wink and a casual salute. Charles returned the gesture with a salute himself, while Lydia shifted her stare between them in a mix of awe and confusion.

 _Cue Blake Shelton - Boys 'round here._

An hour went by and the couple danced in front of the stage, alongside various other mammals; some in pairs, some dancing alone. Even Michael and Kathy were dropping by from time to time, but often minded their own little romance. Occasionally, Charles would wander off to score some refreshing beer for him and his Lydia. For himself, this was not too bad, since he got somewhat used to alcohol, but Lydia, on the other paw, was getting a bit tipsy over time. This was not only noticed by Charles, but by three other mammals, who approached her as Charles got to refill their cups.

From the distance, he saw his newfound girlfriend look very uncomfortable, almost in distress, as the other mammals, two warthogs and a serval, closing in on her.

Charles abandoned the cups immediately and dashed towards them, as his instinct to protect kicked in. Shortly before he could reach them though, he slowed down considerably, making use of the behavior he had seen on his father and brother; calm on the outside, no matter the internal turmoil.

The last bit he'd heard before stepping in between the unwanted mammals and Lydia, was the serval saying, "stay with ya own species, with felines like mahself. Not som' flatfoot filth," spewing his speciesism at her.

Now standing between his feline and the rowdies he could take a closer look at them. The serval was wearing simple jeans, a beige-checkered button-down, which was missing it's sleeves and a trucker-cap, his large ears poking through two holes.

The warthog to his left was wearing a bib overall with a camouflage pattern, a bandana with the colors of the county-flag and he had aviators placed on his snout. His upper body under the bib was bare.

Lastly, the warthog on the right was a real greaser, with jeans, a matching sleeveless denim jacket and the long bristles on his scalp were smeared backwards, with some form of fur gel. Given the slickness and the smell of it, it could have been motor grease as well. His most notable feature however, was his right tusk, as about half of it was broken off.

What the trio had in common however, was the fact that all of them had sturdy bodies, toned from working on the fields and the fact that all three of them were as ugly as the night was dark.

"Is there a problem, spoonears?" he asked calmly. Only his clenched fists would've indicated his true mental state, hadn't they been stored in the pockets of his pants.

"Yeah, ma problem is ya dancing with that lynx behind ya." As the serval opened his mouth to voice his hatred, Charles was hit by a rancid smell and the sight of missing teeth. Both were the result of chewing tobacco and a great lack hygiene over a period of multiple years.

"Hm, I see… Well, maybe we need an educated opinion," Charles replied as he started to look at one of the serval's warthog companions.

"How about you, Wartface?" He shifted his gaze to the other hog. "Or you, Reeker?"

"Alright, that's it!" the serval growled. "Trevor, Billy-Bob, let's get 'im!"

At that very moment, Michael put a paw with a strong grip on the shoulder of one of the approaching hogs.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he suggested.

In this moment, the troublemaker trio realised that the music had stopped. They felt several angry eyes on them as well as a furious dingo approaching them from the stage, his guitar already discarded.

"So, what's going on here?" Bark basically shouted at this point, his voice devoid of his usual friendly, soothing tone.

"What's going on? Pred on prey, that's what's going on," the serval said through gritted teeth.

"You're lil' Cletus Sabron right? Ya know, I worked with ya father back in the day. Wha' would he say, if he knew tha' you and your friends gang up on a defenseless prey and a femammal?"

Cletus flinched like he was punched square in the muzzle and took a few steps back.

"You wouldn't…"

"I tell you wha', Cletus. You and yar friends are the reason we outskirt farmers are seen as some backwards, speciest, hillbilly rednecks, livin' back in the eighteen-hundreds. Y'all should shame yarself a truckload."

Kathy joined in on the party as well. "Yep, get lost. No one wants you here anyway."

Looking around, Cletus saw nothing but angry glares in his direction. A few moments passed and seeing no way he could win, he scoffed and turned to Kathy.

"Well, your party sucks anyway," he said and spat before her hindpaws to give his statement extra emphasis.

"Trevor! Billy-Bob! Let's go, we're outta here!" He turned around and lead the way outside the barn, shoving some mammals out his way while doing so. The two warthogs followed shortly.

Now that the tension was gone, Charles turned around and faced his lynx who was still cowering behind him. She practically threw herself at him and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. In a comforting gesture, he put his arms around her and stroke the back of her head.

"Thank you for standing up for me," she sighed, her voice muffled as she spoke into his neck.

The dingo came over, put his paw in Charles' shoulder and made sure he was alright, which was answered by a simple nod.

Some time passed, neither the bunnyfox nor the lynx could tell how much, until they heard Bark from the stage again.

"A'ight folks. Y'all've seen that ugly display earlier. Thank y'all for standing up for what's righ'. Let's show the world tha' we're better than they think we are."

A round of applause followed.

"This next song goes to a couple I just met today. That was courage righ' there, goin' against three guys without backup. We all should learn from that example."

 _Cue: Blake Shelton - Honey Bee_

Both could've been flustered, they even could've felt embarrassed, but they weren't. The two mammals stood in their own little bubble of content and were soothed by the tunes that were played only for them. Lydia's hips began to move, swinging to every second beat of the song. Charles followed her movements soon after and they shared a little dance. All the trouble from earlier was absolutely forgotten.

Charles and Lydia were approached by Michael and Kathy after they parted again. They drank one last cup of beer and enjoyed a few more songs from Bark. As they finished up, they decided to call it a night and to leave the bike at Kathy's place for the time being. Once outside, everyone gave their goodbyes to the racoon. Lastly, she hugged Michael and whispered something in his ear, followed by a pinch on his rear. This was answered by a muffled yelp from the fox.

Kathy tried to be sneaky with both, which did not work at all. Lydia saw the pinch with her nightvision and Charles, with his big ears, heard exactly what Kathy said.

'Don't you make me wait, foxy. We both know that you want to eat that muffin again.'

Simultaneously, Charles and Lydia shot each other a knowing look, combined with a wicked grin.

The walk down the dirt path was quite enjoyable for a while. It could have been a pleasant walk all the way, hadn't it been for a pickup that was blocking that particular road, a safe distance away from the barneque. Charles crooked an eyebrow upwards and got closer to investigate.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't flatfoot, Mrs. Feline Traitor and Fatso-foxo?" From behind the pickup, Cletus, Billy-Bob and Trevor appeared.

"What do you want, Cletus?" Charles grumbled at him.

"Me? Oh, not much," he replied, sporting a grin that was equally confident as it was disgusting. Charles heard a metallic click and then it was obvious to him where the confidence came from. In his paws, Cletus held a stiletto, the five inch blade shining menacingly in the moonlight.

"We just want ta have some fun with y'all."

It would have been enough time to dodge the stab that followed, but given his alcohol-induced slowed reaction time he only had the option to deflect the blade which was aimed at his midsection. This move caused the blade to glide into his forearm, carving a deep cut into it.

Charles screamed in pain and and held his wound, oblivious to the hoof of one of the warthogs, namely Trevor, connecting with his head and smashing it against the side of the truck. Black dots flashed in Charles' vision and he had a hard time not passing out on the spot.

Meanwhile, the other hog was wrestling for the upper paw with Michael. Even with the size and weight advantage, the hog had a hard time putting the fox into submission. His downfall however, was the lynx everyone ignored. With a swift kick to the back of Billy-Bob's knee, she threw him off balance and drew a squeal of surprise, rather than pain from him.

This was the opportunity Charles and Michael needed. Michael clenched one paw and connected a stone-hard fist two times with the snout of Billy-Bob.

Simultaneously, the other hog and the serval took a surprised look towards their squealing friend and watched him getting pummeled.

Although Charles was still drowsy from the hit, he knew he had to react. With a quick upwards motion of his healthy arm, he struck Cletus' testicles with enough force to send him to his knees, clutching them, effectively letting go of the blade.

 _Screw fair play; this is a skirmish now,_ he thought.

With great agony, he grabbed some dirt with his injured paw from underneath him. He turned towards Trevor, putting all his effort into swinging his paw and releasing his ammunition, aiming for the hog's face, especially his eyes.

Stunned by the dirt in his eyes, Trevor stumbled back and shielded them from further onslaught with his hoofs.

Charles got up, but before he got over to his friends, he made sure to kick the switchblade under the truck. As he finished his dash, he asked Michael and Lydia if they were alright, to which both nodded. Neither of them saw the cut on Charles' arm and even he had forgotten about it, given his adrenaline rush.

A feral growl informed them that at least one of these bastards was ready for another attack. Looking over, they saw a hunched over, but standing, Cletus. His face was a grimace of hatred and fury, his eyes were almost glowing with a desire to maul the buck in front of him.

Trevor finished rubbing the dirt out his eyes and puffed his anger out of his nostrils. Luckily for the defendants, Billy-Bob remained out cold.

Now that the adrenaline cleared Charles' mind, his odds in this fight had improved significantly, even though blood started to run in his eye. The hit he took from the hoof above his brow apparently caused a laceration. Clearing his vision as good as one swipe could do, he got into his fighting stance before Cletus could reach him.

As Charles expected, the serval rushed him in blind rage, giving him enough room for counters. The first attack, a wide slash, almost resembling a haymaker with extended claws, was easily blocked. The incoming claws were stopped, followed by a shoulder check into his solar plexus. Charles would have liked to use his fist, but given his injury, he could definitely not rely on it, so he decided to focus on his feet for all his following attacks.

Cletus stumbled backwards and as he did, Charles followed him, keeping the distance as short as possible. As soon as the feral feline could stop in his tracks, the bunnyfox kicked forward, connecting his hindpaw with Cletus' stomach. This took out all the air of feline's lungs and sent him flying backwards. The serval struggled to get up. With great effort, he got up to his knees and Charles had his shin ready, slamming it in the side of the feline's head. This was it for Cletus; he lost consciousness.

This was the moment Charles bolted towards Michael to help him out with the last remaining attacker. To his surprise, he saw that Michael was in no way struggling with Trevor. He was pinned against a tree by the fox who tried to hammer his fist into the hog's snout. He missed and slammed his knuckles against the tree. Charles was amazed, as he didn't even see the smallest flinch from Michael, but as the tod winded his fist up for another punch, the bunnyfox saw that the spot in the wood had no more bark. It had just splintered from the impact.

 _Holy crap, he really punched that dent into the tractor last week._ This random thought was followed by a mental note to never make Michael angry at him.

The next hit connected and knocked out the last problem in their way, so Charles ran over to Lydia to pick her up.

"Come on, let's go before they wake up," he hecticly commanded and all three of them dashed for the safety of their homestead.

Arriving there, everyone had to catch their breath. Between wheezes, Charles asked Michael how he could deliver such a punch without even flinching. The tod explained that he had a condition that made his bones roughly double as dense than normal, which also gave him a high pain tolerance. Furthermore, he told them that doctors think that this condition may also be connected to his double jointed digits, but no one was sure.

"They have called it an 'engima' or something. No, wait, 'enigma', but I have no disadvantages, so don't worry."

"Wait, double jointed digits?" Charles asked a bit dumbfounded.

Michael demonstrated by overbending his fingers to a degree that sent shivers through Charles' spine.

"Holy shit! Doesn't that hurt?"

"Nosir! It's just as natural for me as meat eating is for you."

"I guess you're right." All of them chuckled. The chuckle grew up to a full laughing fit, which lasted for half a minute.

The fox sighed as he wiped a tear from his eye, while he looked up into the dark cold sky.

"I'll give you that, Charlie: With you around, it never gets dull. Dagnabbit, after all, that was exciting."

He smacked the bunnyfox's shoulder. "Anyway, I will hit the hay. Tomorrow is a hard day again. I'm sure ol' Harald won't count this night as an excuse to slack off."

"You're right. I think that I'll get one last bottle though… You know, to unwind a little."

Charles and Lydia stayed outside for a moment, before following Michael into the farmhouse. Now that the adrenalin had started to fade away gradually, Charles started to feel the outcome of the encounter from earlier. His laceration and the cut on his forearm started to ache horribly, but he was not planning to let any of this show to his lynx. Luckily for him, she was walking in front of him, not seeing his wounds. Double-luck in fact, as he had a nice view of her tail and rump as they walked up the stairs.

But luck wouldn't strike him a third time, as he tried to sneak by Lydia as she stood in front of her bedroom door. She turned towards him, hoping for a good night kiss, and saw the laceration.

"Your face!" She gasped loudly.

She moved closer to inspect the wound. Automatically, she put her tender paw on his forearm to comfort her bunny, drawing a hiss and a flinch from him.

Quickly removing her paws and covering her mouth with them, she looked at the cut she just touched.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?"

"Ah, don't mention it. Cletus pulled a knife earlier, but you don't need to worry."

"No need to worry? You're bleeding all over your arm and face! You go take a shower and I will get the first aid kit. We will meet in my room when you're done."

"Look, you really don't have to..."

She cut him off by putting a digit of her paw over his mouth. "That wasn't a request. Go, now!" she ordered, her strict face letting him know that there was no room for discussion, so he complied.

Now standing in front of the mirror, he gazed upon the mess he was. His forearm looked awful, which was a given after deflecting a knife on it's blade. Thankfully though, the cut was on the outside of his arm and nowhere near any veins, avoiding major blood loss. His face however, looked far worse. The gash was not as deep as the one on his arm, but somehow it must have bled like a cascade. Even now, several minutes after the incident, the wound still trickled a bit. Now he understood the worried, almost panicked look on his lynx's face when she saw him. The left side of Charles' face was totally soaked, the fur sticking uncomfortably to his skin, like it was plastered with glue. In a way, he looked like one of those zombies from the movies he saw with his brother a few years back. Without the permission of their parents of course.

The thought that a quick rinse over the sink would be enough disappeared after he finished checking himself in the mirror so he undressed and turned to the shower, hoping there was a bit of warm water left. There was not.

After the shower, which he kept as quick as possible, he was sitting on Lydia's bed, only dressed in boxers. He didn't care to get dressed in his stained clothes and his shorts were the only piece of clothing that had no droplets of red on them. Even though Lydia didn't show it, she appreciated the view in front of her.

Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of any thoughts that could interfere with the task at hand.

"Ok, hold still," she said after she picked up tweezers from the first aid kit. Using the lamp on the her nightstand she searched for dirt that may have entered the wounds. Luckily, she found nothing of that sort. Putting away the tweezers, she grabbed a bag of cotton balls and a bottle filled with a clear liquid. After soaking one ball with the mysterious liquid she said: " This may sting a little," and placed the ball in the gash on Charles' forehead.

The burning sensation pulled a sharp hiss from Charles.

"Come on, you are a girl, can't you be more gentle?"

"Come on, you are a boy, be a bit more tough will you?"

With a scoff, which drew a small giggle from Lydia, he concentrated on not making a sound as she continued to disinfect his soon-to-be battlescars. His concentration could prevent further hissing and could suffocate grumblings what would build up in his throat, but it could not stop him from grimacing. Lastly, she was done with cleaning the wounds and proceeded with the next step, which made Charles' eyes go wide with fear.

Lydia pulled out a curved needle, a slim thread and ice-spray from the aid kit.

"Wh-What are you gonna do with those?"

"I will give you stitches. Isn't it nice to have a girlfriend in med-school?"

"Uh... um… yes, but… wouldn't it be enough to just patch me up?"

"And risk an ugly scar on such a handsome face? No way, sir. Besides you won't feel anything, so don't be a baby. Turn a bit towards the light, would you?"

It was strange for Charles. After the spark had inflamed the bonfire between them, which was rather ironic since they were at a bonfire in that moment, Lydia had lost most, but not all of her shyness around him. But now, doing a medical treatment, there was no shy Lydia left. She was replaced with a brave and determined Lydia, who knew exactly what she did. This gave him a deeper appreciation for her than ever. He knew, she would be one great doctor one day.

"Don't be startled. You will feel a cold sensation now. This will numb the areas I need to stitch."

She started to apply the ice-spray to the cut on the arm. She really stood true to her words since the icy sensation was replaced with nothing in seconds. Charles was mesmerized by the quick skilled movements of her paws and digits and before he knew it, the wound was sealed.

Proceeding forward, she applied the spray to the laceration on his head now. The coldness was a bit worse there, since it was so close to his face but the procedure of numbing and stitching was over as fast it was on his arm. She finished her work with a quick peck on the closed gash, which Charles only vaguely felt.

"You know, if you want me to appreciate it, you have to kiss me where I can feel it."

"Do I now?" she said and immediately bent down to place her lips on his before he could respond. The kiss quickly deepend and their tongues started to dance with each other. Too short it was, before Lydia pulled away again, leaving Charles' mouth empty.

Then she sank on her knees between Charles' spread hindpaws and hugged his waist, letting her head rest on his bare chest.

"Thank you for today, sweety. Cletus never took the rejection well."

"He asked you out?"

"M-hm. About two years ago. But he has always been such an asshole."

Charles started to scratch behind her ears to comfort her, which did wonders. In a matter of moments she started purring and leaning further into him, effectively pushing him onto her bed.

There they lay for a few minutes, Lydia lying on Charles' chest, his paws petting her ears, head and neck. He started to drift away until he felt Lydia shifting a bit. Looking down, he stared directly in the eyes of his girlfriend.

"How can I thank you for today?"

"Huh? Why would you thank me? I just did what was right."

"Yes you did," she said, a warm, yet mischievous smile creeping over her muzzle. Her paw reached up and started to caress his cheek.

"You stood up for me against three mammals and defended me. You are a hero to me, and I just happen to know how to reward a hero."

With these words, she started to nuzzle into his neck, placing soft kisses and nibbles into it.

And with breaching this last barrier, caused by overflowing emotions and hormones, their first time happened. Given the absence of experience for both of them, it was awkward but filled with a romantic passion. Kathy would have been proud of them if she knew this happened.

An hour later, they both fell asleep in each other's embrace, content, happy and spent, the thin blanket was the only piece of fabric covering the fur of the lovebirds.


	8. Chapter 7 - Here I go again

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had this chapter in the barrel for over a month now, but real life just got in the way. My worklife realy beats down on my lately and it will for about two more months. Hopefully the stress lessens by then.

Now, for the first time ever, let's answer some comments.

KIITCH: Thank you for your nice words. And in this, you get another "present" snippet. I'm glad that it is not too confusing overall.

TheAssassin2: Well, now you will see what happens next. Have fun.

JP133: Oh, my poor unknowing child. You are in for a bitter surprise (well, not realy, since I asked you to beta-read it, so there is no surprise left)

PrinceOfBlades431: Also thank you for your nice words. And yeah, thank you for sticking with me. I mean, you are the first to comment on this story (aside from someone who commented without an account)

As usual, a big thank you to Optimuspower92, JP133 and DiaH20 over at deviantart for being my proofreaders. I couldn't do this whole thing without you

Without further adoo, let's hop into it once again, shall we?

* * *

 **5th of June 2017, 11:21 p.m.**

 **HMC Workshop, Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

That memory brought a small smirk onto Charles' muzzle. Some say that you never forget your first love, and the bunnyfox could confirm that.

Those recollections from his time at the Gaupa farm were clear as if they had happened yesterday. Sad to say, not all of those were the giddy feeling of Lydia, nuzzled in his arms, feeling her bare fur on his and both of them enjoying the bliss of the afterglow.

Charles tried to refuse going further down memory lane. This was the last fork in the road, the last chance that could have turned his life around. He could've lived his life as a farmer, or followed Lydia on her journey, if she chose to leave her homestead to pursue her medical career.

But destiny is a cruel mistress. She had different plans for both their futures, and she'd left no room for negotiation. He got all the strength he could muster to resist the memory of what happened next, to pretend nothing further had happened to bring him to where he is now and to fantasise about a completely different life for him and his Lydia. But eventually, his attempts of fighting back the reality of his past were in vain. All it did was prolonging the inevitable.

The buff bunnyfox could not shift his mind towards what could have been. The past demanded to be remembered, the pain demanded to be felt. Luckily, he found something else to occupy his mind, even if it was just for a short while.

The blaring sound of the sirens outside of his window stopped growing louder. He knew that the sheriff and his officers had arrived. In a few seconds, the sheriff would take his megaphone and…

"Hammer, I know you're in there. Come out on your own terms or we **will** come in."

There it was.

"Nah, thanks, Deputy Siljan, I'm quite comfy in here."

"That is _Sheriff Clawson_ to you and you know that damn well!"

Charles knew that the 'deputy'-comment would aggravate the red fox, who was promoted to sheriff not too long ago, which made this teasing all the more fun.

 _And why not poke the beehive a little more? What's the worst thing that could happen? Loss of freedom?_

"Yep, I know that, but fuck you anyways!"

"Alright, that's it! Final warning! Come out with your paws behind your head!"

"You see, I am not in a position to do that. My leg stings a bit, you know? Must have twisted it whilst dancing. Why don't you and your playmates come in? I promise that I'll be unarmed. The doors are locked though, and I may have lost the key."

Siljan hated the biker-bunny's attitude. Ever since he'd known him, Charles had been a cocky asshole, never showing any respect to law-enforcers.

"Oh, and since you're my _friend and helper,_ could you bring me a six-pack of beer when you come in? I forgot to buy one yesterday."

"Hammer! I will not tolerate your disrespect any longer!"

"Disrespect? I thought that your slogan was to 'serve and protect'. It's a bit late for the protection part, but I would definitely appreciate a serving."

"I'm done. Whatever happens next, you brought this on yourself." With these words, the sheriff put away the megaphone and signalled his officers to position themselves at the entrance of the workshop.

"You don't know how correct you are, Siljan," Charles thought to himself, a grim expression on his face.

With the absence of any further distraction, the memories came flooding back in. Images of a furious Harald flashed before his inner eyes, accompanied by a phantom pain on his forehead. A scar, once a simple stitched laceration, was the most prominent reminder of the last morning he had been on the Gaupa Farm.

 **12th of August 2006 4:49 a.m.**

 **Gaupa Farm, Clearwater, Boarderlands County**

Lazily, Charles' eyes opened themselves. He didn't exactly know what time it was, but he found it astounding that he was able to wake up before lunch was served, let alone waking up before dawn. Not only was he somehow able to do so, he was even starting to enjoy tackling the day as early as possible.

"This new life really is doing me good," he thought to himself. "Isn't it crazy how you can find happiness in the most unusual places?"

As he would do every morning nowadays, he started to inhale the morning air sharply, preparing for a content grumble, while he moved his limbs into a stretch.

In this moment, three sensations hit him like a bulldozer. Firstly, this wasn't his room. Would it've been, the air would've been much colder, since he always made sure to sleep with the windows open during the mellow summer nights. Secondly, the air smelled different, somewhat sweet, with a strong fragrance of femininity. Thirdly, as he shifted his limbs, someone else moved and gave out an annoyed murmur, which was one of the cutest sounds he could have wished to hear, first thing in the morning.

In an instant, he knew where he was and he immediately stopped his movements. Under no circumstances did he want to wake his new girlfriend up, if he hadn't already.

Lydia, on her own accord, rubbed her face into the bunnyfox's chest, which she had used as a pillow during the night and snuggled her lithe frame closer to him.

"Good morning, Charlie." Her voice was soft, dreamy and muffled by the fur on his chest.

His reply was not with words but with his arms that brought Lydia out of her slumber. He lowered them from their pre-stretch position. The paw closest to the lynx laid itself on her back as he gave her a light kiss between her ears. Afterwards, his free paw gently scratched a sensitive spot under her chin which he'd found yesterday, when they were exploring each other's forms in great detail.

Unavoidably, she stretched her head upwards, to give his digits better access. With her muzzle now pointed towards his and before she could even start a purr due to his ministrations, he planted another kiss on her lips. After he withdrew, and Lydia's purring was well audible, he looked at her face and saw it sporting a sweet smile and half lidded eyes.

"What a way to wake up," she cooed, before snuggling back into his chest. "Five more minutes though, please."

"Lazy today, huh?" Charles said with a soft chuckle, while his paw traced along her spine.

"Mm-hm," Lydia replied and was out a few seconds later, snoring softly.

 _This is strange. That sound used to aggravate me when my brother did it, but this is the sweetest sound ever._ Not only did he think it was sweet, but it relaxed him enough to lull him back into dreamland as well, a blissful expression covering his face

Five minutes turned into ten, ten into thirty, until an hour of sleep passed over them both. They would've slept in for longer, but the bliss could not last forever.

Downstairs, Harald became more impatient by the minute. He had a strict daily routine for himself and for his whole farm, including his farmhands and his daughter. He knew that everyone went to the neighbours' barneque, but it was still too unusual for his little princess to ignore her duties.

After waiting for an hour, he decided to check on her and to wake her up. Afterwards, he would prepare breakfast himself. He gave her credit, since she hadn't missed a single day of work, but sleeping in was still unacceptable.

Slowly, he went up the stairs to her room and gently knocked on her door, as she could be getting dressed. After not receiving an answer, he laid his ear on the door and heard a familiar soft snoring.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the sound and opened the door.

The small strip of light from the hall as he opened the door shone on the bed and what he saw shook him to his very core. There she was, his little girl, his princess, in the same bed as this filthy hobo he had taken in recently.

His blood boiled as his muzzle contorted into a grimace of rage. The next thing he saw, as the door opened wider and more light started to creep into the room, was similar to throwing a canister of gas onto a bonfire. Not only did they lay side by side, her head resting on him, they were also naked. Harald simply exploded. He stormed in, pushing the door open with force,causing it to slam against the wall with an audible bang.

He shoved his daughter off of Charles, he gripped Charles by his neck and threw him off the bed.

"WHAT'YA THINK YA DOIN'?"

Before Charles could reorient himself after being thrown from his nice dream and a comfortable bed, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head as it slammed into the hard wooden floor.

His eyes now wide open, all he saw was the face of the lynx patriarch with his muzzle a mask of fury.

"Wha? Who...? Sir?"

"DON'T YA 'SIR' ME, YA PELT. I INVITE YA IN, GET YA A JOB, LET YA EAT OFF MY TABLE, AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?!" he screamed at the baffled and already mortified bunnyfox.

"Daddy?! No, please stop!" Lydia started to plead, now covering herself with the bedsheets.

A lot calmer on the outside, Harald turned to his daughter. "Keep your nose out of this, Lydie."

"But Daddy, you don't understand!"

"I said KEEP. IT. OUT!"

Stunned by her father actually shouting at her, she couldn't utter a single word in that moment. She knew her father was strict, sometimes his voice could be demanding, but he never shouted at her before.

The patriarch turned back to Charles, his voice nothing but a growl, his face still carved out of fury and anger. "Collect ya clothes from here and get dressed. Get whatever belonging from ya room."

Without seeing any room to argue with the lynx, Charles complied and gathered his clothes, which were discarded on the floor. Just as he wanted to exit the room, the patriarch grabbed him by the scruff and shoved him out forcefully, before leaving the room himself and locking the door behind him. Both of them could hear sobbing behind the now closed door.

Charles got into his room and started to get dressed. His trembling paws and the shock made the task excruciatingly difficult.

In the meantime, Michael himself poked his head out of his room and saw the back of Harald.

"What is wrong, Harry?" he asked with a wide yawn.

"None of your business, Mikey. Go back inside."

"But Harry, I hear someone crying."

"None. Of. Your. Business!"

Every word was very much accentuated, letting the burley fox know that he should heed the warning, as to not suffer any negative repercussions.

It took Charles the best part of five minutes to finish dressing and gathering all his belongings in his kitbag.

 _Alright, Charles. Harry has always been a reasonable mammal. You go out there and explain to him that you won't take his daughter from him. You will tell him that you love her and you will protect her at all times. Then, you will back this up with the story from yesterday, he will ask Lydia if I'm telling the truth and she will confirm it, and Michael will too. Yes, this will work out. Just be calm, collected and show him that you will not back down, that you stand up for what you believe._

He didn't realise that he was standing in front of the door to his room during his own pep talk. With a sharp exhale and straightening of his back, he collected all of his courage. He stepped out of the room and turned to where he had last seen Harald and what he saw crushed all of his bravery in an instant. Right there, at the end of the hall, stood the patriarch, with a double barrel shotgun over his shoulder.

"Move," Harald commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"No, please, Harald, don't…"

"I said, move!"

 _Oh fuck, oh fuck, I am dead. I am so fucking dead._ His thoughts quickly started to go haywire. Just like the blades of a fan at full speed, his mind was a hazy blur.

Only one voice reached him from the fog that his mind had turned into. It was the voice that saved his life a mere six days ago, when it commanded him to work on this farm.

 _If he wanted you dead, you already would be. Why would he let you pick up your stuff if he was simply going to shoot you? However, it would be wise to comply for now and to not stand there like a statue, to avoid that he changes his mind._

"Are you deaf now too?"

"Sorry Sir," Charles said, his head now hanging low. Reluctantly and with shaking knees, he made his way passed the lynx and down the stairs with Harald following closely.

They walked all the way from the farmhouse to the edge of the farm, Charles always in front of Harald, who kept his gaze on Charles the whole time. The bunnyfox's mind was still racing in a nausea-inducing speed, looking for any solution to solve or escape this life threatening situation, while his heart seemed to attempt an escape of its own as it hammered in his chest. He couldn't understand how this happened, as he was but a mere kit. He cursed his own mind for telling him to get himself the job on that farm. Hadn't he followed that call, he may still be on the river clearing, hungry, cold, but at least alive.

"Down on your knees, face straight ahead," Harald commanded, as they reached the border of the land.

"Harald, please, think about what you are doing. I… I… "

"Shut yer whining and get down." Charles did as he was told and as he lowered himself on his knees and started to feel the barrels of the shotgun pressing in-between his shoulder blades, he could not help himself. He was terrified, his whole body was shaking and his tears were now flowing without restraint.

As his lower lip quivered and snot started to run from his nostrils, he whispered one word. The one word, he thought, would be his last: "P-please."

Then, two clicks. Nothing more, nothing less. Charles grimaced at the pain that never came and the end of the gun was removed from his back.

"Next time I see your muzzle 'round 'ere, I'll make sure she's loaded. Now **GET** the hell off ma' property."

The word 'get' was emphasized with a hindpaw kicking on the spot where the gun was pointed mere moments before. This forceful shove took the balance from the shaking bunnyfox and he landed face first on the gravely ground before him. This, in turn, ripped open the stitches of the laceration on his forehead. This reminder would keep him company for all the years to come, since he neither had the cash nor the insurance to let it be checked and stitched by a doctor, and once the time came where he was able to support himself, the wound had already formed into a scar.

He didn't feel the tearing of the stitches, neither would he care until the adrenaline had subsided. He needed to get away from there and he had to do it fast. Thankfully, his bike was not at the Gaupa's farm, but at the O'Coonor's farm. So he got up and ran away for the second time in his life. He was too mortified to take a look back though. He may be dumb, but he wasn't stupid and he knew that you shouldn't tempt fate once your life is at stake.

Harald watched his ex-farmhand scurry off and turned back to his home. As he looked up to it, he saw light coming from a window on the upper floor with a dark silhouette in said window. He couldn't see it but he felt the angry and disappointed gaze of his daughter laying on him. One moment later, the blinds were closed and the window was dark again.

With a deep and defeated sight, Harald shook his head. "Solvin' one problem, creating another. She will understand eventually." With that in mind, he started walking back to the farmhouse.

Even in full sprint, it took Charles quite some time to reach the Kathy's farm. He couldn't figure out what to do next, other than to get on his bike and find a new place. Or maybe he would go back to the clearing. That sounded like the most logical option for the moment. There was the problem of gas though. The tank of his Michelle was running dangerously low.

As he reached the farm, he noticed that no light protruded from any of the buildings. He toyed around with the thought of offering his work to the O'Coonors, but discarded it. _They work too closely together with the Gaupas and if that crazy feline finds me here, I'll have buckshot in the back of my head faster than I can say 'Bananarama'._

No, he decided to keep as much distance as he could. As silent as possible, he made his way to where he remembered parking Michelle and soon enough, he saw her sleek form. He put his bag in the sidecar and pushed her towards the end of the property. One look at the fuel gauge told him that the bike had almost no juice left.

He hated himself for his next couple of actions, but he didn't see any other way. He crept towards one of the bigger barns and checked the doors. They had a padlock on them, which mainly served to keep the doors from opening by a gust of wind, but it wasn't locked. As he pushed the doors open, they screeched as the rusty hinges grinded on one another. Luckily, this didn't wake up anyone who was in the main house.

Inside, he saw a pickup truck, some tools and exactly what he was searching for: three large canisters. The first one he checked was empty, but the other two were definitely filled with something. He popped open the cap of one of the aluminium boxes and took a whiff. The smell of gasoline was unmistakable, as it burned the insides of his nose. Charles repeated the procedure with the second canister and was relieved to find it filled with gas as well. His conscious told him to stop and just leave everything behind, but the necessity for this engine juice drove him further. He picked them both up, carried them to his bike and stole them. After pushing his bike further down the road, until he was sure the engine wouldn't wake anybody, he hopped on and drove back to the clearing.

This was the worst day in his life so far and he knew it. First, him and his first true love were ripped apart. Secondly, he got thrown out and was homeless again. Thirdly, he had a near-death experience and to top it all off, he stole from someone he considered a friend. The fact that Kathy was actually just a friend of his former girlfriend and not very close to Charles himself did not matter in the slightest.

As he arrived at the clearing shortly after, he slouched down on the bench, which still stood there as an open invitation for him and him alone. He buried his face in the palms of his paws and started to fight yet another inner battle, as the fog in his mind started to clear.

He could bring back the gasoline, maybe even before anyone woke up. The O'Coonors and their guests had probably celebrated far into the night, so with a little bit of good fortune, no one would ever be the wiser. Additionally, this would relief his conscience a small bit. On the other paw, this would render him immobile soon if he didn't refill Michelle's tank. Not that he would know where to go, but he knew he couldn't stay forever.

He thought about going to the station and boarding a train. This would mean that he would have to leave his bike behind, which was out of the question as well. Wherever he would go, the bike would stay with him, even if this meant he would be stuck here.

 _But what if Harald finds you here?_

 _So what? I am not on his property._

 _Are you sure that he'll make a difference between either?_

 _Well… no… but why would he come here?_

 _Don't you think Lydia would come and search for you here?_

 _Yes… no… maybe? I really don't know._

 _And if she does, who will be coming after her once he realised that she's gone?_

 _Harald._

 _Correct. And do you think that he might guess correctly on where to find her?_

 _Yes…_

 _So, worst case scenario, she finds you here, Harald catches you and ends what he started. Here is another outcome: she doesn't find you, but only Harald does, in a clearing, somewhat far away from the city, with no witnesses and an easy way to get rid of the evidence._

He looked at the river for quite a while. He noticed that the current was far stronger than when he had left it. _Is that normal for this time of the year?_ It would be really easy to dump a body in that stream. The water flowed away from Clearwater and who knows when the next town along the river would come. Besides, even if he would be washed up and found near Clearwater, no one really knew he was there. Aside from the Gaupas, Michael and Kathy, he didn't meet many mammals. For all the other citizens, he would be a normal vagabond who got drunk and fell into the water, maybe one hundred miles upstream.

 _But if Harald is going to finish it, I would have a shotgun wound and THIS would lead to a criminal investigation, wouldn't it?_

 _Then he wouldn't pull the trigger. He would batter you with the stock of the rifle. Once he cleans it, no evidence would lead back to him. Heck, he could use one of the heavy tree branches which lay around here and simply burn it at home. For the police, someone bashed in the head of a bum. The furthest they would get would probably be Cletus, if the sheriff would even go so far._

 _What do you mean?_

 _Look, with no one reporting you missing, this would be a cold case soon._

This convinced him. He got up, snatched one of the canisters and filled the tank of his bike. He repeated this with the second can and stashed them back into the sidecar, below his bag of clothes. As he did, he noticed a considerable amount of blood on his paw, as well as a tingling sensation on his forehead. With his mind occupied, he hadn't realised that the stitches of his laceration had ripped open. Luckily, it didn't bleed as much as it could have, but now that his mind had cleared a bit, a different sensation nestled itself in his head. A headache that felt like a hammer pounding on an anvil, with his head in between.

Groaning, he slumped back on the bench and waited for the headache to go away. It didn't subside and wouldn't for quite a while. Even after the sun had risen and flooded the clearing in its morning bliss, the pain had not diminished in the slightest.

Giving up hope that his condition would become better anytime soon, he did what needed to be done, even if it was in agony. He got up, walked over to the river and started cleaning the blood from his face and paws as best as he could.

With nothing left to gain from this place, and with the fear of Harald in his heart, he decided that it was time to move on.

" 'No leaving Clearwater'? My ass!" he thought. He then put his shades on and drove off. First from the clearing to the main road, and from there, he headed east towards the still rising sun. His last farewell was flipping off the infamous sign that marked the borders of this town.

 **12th of August 2006 12:23 p.m.**

 **Savanna Central, Zootopia**

Nick and Judy were sitting in their cruiser, taking a break from a patrol through the city. For the last two weeks, Bogo had only put them on patrol. No cases, no raids, no surveillance; just patrols. After they explained to their boss that their kit had run away, he thought about giving the duo a few days off, since their emotional state could easily interfere with their police work, but the old buffalo knew better. His star officers would be persistent and go to every length to continue their duty. So, Bogo decided to send them on patrol. This way, they could look for their son on the streets, while still fulfilling their duty to keep the city safe.

Nick and Judy weren't the only ones searching for Charles, as the chief told every other team to keep an eye out for an oversized bunny-looking hybrid and report back immediately if spotted. Sadly, every search turned out be a dead end, since Charles was nowhere near the city limits and the jurisdiction of all the officers from Precinct One to Twelve ended at these exact limits.

Judy sighed heavily. "Nick?"

"Hm?" Nick replied, while keeping his gaze fixed out of the window.

"Is there any place left where we haven't searched yet?" Not only did she sound exhausted, dark rings under her eyes also told everyone around her that she had trouble sleeping.

A few seconds of silence filled the cruiser, before Nick answered, "I hate to say it, but I think there are just a few spots in the city no one has searched yet and for a good reason."

"What areas do you mean?"

Now, it was Nick's turn to sigh. "Happytown."

"Why Happytown? Our colleagues from precinct five said they've searched everywhere."

"Carrots, there are places in that district not even our fellow officers would go in. Half of Precinct Five is on someone's payroll to keep their snouts out anyway."

"I think I know which places you mean. Do you think the Razorhat gang reformed itself and is back in Westmawster Alley?"

"Quite possible. Or our boy could live down at the docks. There are some abandoned warehouses there."

"Why didn't they look for him there?"

"Because when I say 'abandoned', I mean owned by crooks, or used as a catnip den"

"You don't think our little boy got into drugs or in trouble with one of those gangs in Happytown?"

Nick looked into Judy's pleading, teary eyes, which nearly broke his heart in two, but he knew that he had to be strong when she couldn't be. And even though Nick missed their son as much as Judy did, he was less worried than her. He knew that living on the street was hard, agonizing at times, but not as dangerous as the movies portray. Besides, his son was a Wilde and Wildes always find their way through everything.

So he cupped her cheek and wiped away a single tear that had snuck from Judy's gloomy eyes.

"No, he didn't."

"The fact that his body hasn't washed up on the shore yet was proof enough of that," he only thought to himself. He would never let this grim thought leave his mouth. Even though he loved her, he was reluctant to tell her the darkest stories of his own youth and why he knew what happens to mammals who fall on the bad side of one of the gangs, or a mob boss for that matter.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Let's just say I have my reasons."

"Seriously, Nick. How?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, Fluff."

Knowing that she would not be able to pry any more information out of him, Judy decided to just trust her husband and let it slide.

"I think that I'll tell Finnick afterall. If our boy really went to Happytown, we need an insider: A con mammal like I was," Nick said, almost to himself. "Any news from the Burrows?"

Judy checked her phone for the thousandth time, in the hopes of getting a text from her mother that Charles had been found wandering anywhere near the Tri-Burrows.

"Nope, still nothing." Her voice was defeated and small. "I want my boy back."

She began sobbing again; a sight that cut Nick to the bone. For the last two weeks, as they were following any leads they got and fished in murky waters, all he could do was watch helplessly as his wife started to tear up in her grief. Not this time though. This time, he knew how to cheer Judy up. With pure determination, he reached over and pulled her into his lap and enclosed her with his arms.

"We all do, and I promise you, we will find him. If not us, Finnick will. If Charlie isn't in Happytown, then our childrens' friends will. Tiberius told me that the whole HiFi-Forge is searching for him. Some will keep an eye out during a tour, and they made a song that runs on every rock radio station from here all the way to the Burrows, as well as three other counties."

"They did?"

"Yes, they did, and Tiberius even gave me a free copy. You wanna listen to it?"

She didn't answer immediately, but nodded her head against Nick's chest.

After both had heard the song, Judy's sobbing had dwindled down to a few silent sniffles.

"Our kits are so sweet. And did you hear Lilith sing? That was gorgeous."

"Yeah, it was: She takes after you. You know, as much as we want Charlie back, we shouldn't forget that we have two other lovely kits who deserve as much attention and affection."

"You're absolutely right," Judy said as she straightened up. "Tonight, after our shift, we will treat the four of us to a nice dinner."

"Awesome idea, Fluff. I will text them right away to check if they're free."

"Oh, and Finnick too. When we ask for his help, it's the least we can do for him."

"And this is one of the reasons why I love you, Carrots."

With this, they shared a kiss and arranged everything for tonight's dinner.

 **12th of August 2006 5:23 p.m.**

 **Route 66, 10 miles away from Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

While back in Zootopia, the family Wilde-Hopps and uncle Finnick, as the kits referred to him, were getting themselves ready for a nice night out. It was not that anyone wanted to stop the search, but none of them could deny that these two weeks had taken a toll on everyone; except the fennec fox, since he was not privy to Charles' disappearance.

On the other end of the horizon was Charles, the seemingly endless road before him. He didn't know how long he had been riding, or where the road would take him. He only made one stop for a smoke and a bathroom break. Oddly enough and in spite of what happened this morning, he felt free. Free to roam this land, free from any obligation, and free from judgement.

Unfortunately, this lonely road invited his mind to wander as well. Thoughts about his family, about his not so distant childhood, his former friends, the laughs, the journeys, the adventures, the…

 _ **HONK-HOOONK!**_

Suddenly, his mind was catapulted back into reality. Before him was the grill of a giant truck. He must have drifted off to the left lane as he was lost in thought. As if his body was on autopilot, he pulled the brake-lever as tight as he could and steered his bike back to the right lane. His reaction had been a tad bit too late or maybe he'd been going too fast in the first place. Whatever it was, the front of the truck collided with the back of Michelle and spun her out of control.

This, in turn, flung him off the bike and through the air like a doll thrown by an angry kit. The last thing he saw, was the gravel from the side of the road coming closer at an enormous speed. With the impact, he lost consciousness.


	9. Chapter 8 - New Home

**12th of August 2006 5:57 p.m.**

 **Route 66, 15 miles away from Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

A flatbed truck was making its way back to Bristleville on Route 66. The driver, a middle aged liger by the name of Max Johnson, and his half-brother Jared, a tiger who was riding shotgun, finished their final task for the day. They delivered a repaired Corvette to a customer, who was far too busy being rich and famous to pick up the car himself. It took the brothers, alongside the chief mechanic, the best part of two months to restore the sportscar to its former glory. They were accustomed to repair and maintain motorcycles, but no one at the bike shop would shy away from taking care of a four-wheeled vehicle.

"At least that one is over. Damn, I hate that guy. 'No, don't scratch my car with your brute biker claws'. Who does he think repaired it? Fairies? I can't wait to crack open a cold one with the guys," Jared said as he was lighting a cigarette before rolling down the passenger window with the handle bar.

"You can say that again. Acts like his fleet is a collectors edition, but his son trashes one on a nearly monthly basis. Say, J.J., can you spare me one?" Max asked and reached his paw over to his brother.

"Sure thing," J.J. said as he placed a spare smoke into the palm of his brother's paw. "Say, have you heard anything about the upcoming ride-out?"

Max replied after he'd lit his smoke. "Nah, nothing. I guess Slate will give us the details tomorrow at Church. I guess it will be like last time. One of us will stay back and tend to the shop."

"Yeah, probably. I hope it's not me again. Damn, I'm still jealous of last year. You, Chugga and Dunc. You seemed to have a good time."

"And Doom kicked our asses since we couldn't drive our bikes in formation the next day."

"Yep, I heard him explode back at the clubhouse. It was amazing to… Wait! M.J., stop the truck!"

The tires screeched and M.J. brought the flatbed to halt on the side of the road.

"What is it!?"

"Look!" J.J. pointed at a black object, just a few feet from the street.

M.J. spotted the shape that his brother pointed out.

"YOU GAVE ME HALF OF A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE OF A PILE OF TRASH?!" he shouted, but his brother was already out of the cab of the flatbed and jogged towards their finding.

"Sometimes, brother, you really deserve a strangling," M.J. grumbled under his breath before catching up to J.J.. As he got closer though, he saw the reasoning behind his brother's excitement.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yep, an original nineteen-eighty Pawrley Davidson F-X-W-G Wide Glide. Lower-Medium-sized."

"Nineteen-Eighty? Don't be an idiot, no way a cruiser that old would be in this condition," M.J. replied, before he let his eyes wander over the bike and spotted the trashed hind wheel. "Aside from the obvious, of course."

"Hm… interesting…" J.J. mused as he circled the bike.

"Are you even listening to me? What is so interesting that you don't even answer?"

"This here." He pointed at an attachment on the side of the bike. "Have you ever heard of a Wide Glide with a sidecar?" he asked before kneeling down. He didn't wait for an answer, as he took a closer look at the handywork. He knew his brother would answer with a 'no', because as they grew up together, both of them developed a strong fascination with motorbikes which had accompanied them up until this point. Not one magazine mentioned a stock version of that specific model for a third passenger, nor had they ever seen a custom job like this.

"Sturdy... nice welding job... " the tiger mused, before he pulled on a lever on the flange, which made the sidecar come off. "Huh, even detachable. Whoever made this, is one serious mechanic."

"And probably in a club. A club that does not belong to us," his taller brother said grimly. "And no biker with a spec of honor would leave this beauty behind. He is around here."

With that, J.J. almost jumped up, opened the zipper of his light brown work-overall and pulled his gun from his underarm holster. M.J. had already drawn his own gun and nodded towards his brother. With that, both of them cautiously walked further off the road to find whoever owned the bike.

The search was over quickly, since the owner of Michelle laid in the dirt only thirty feet away.

J.J. found him and gave a quick two snaps with his digits to signal his brother to come over. Together, they approached the mammal before them, both guns trained on him constantly.

"Check if he is already riding in hell," M.J. commanded. He kept his aim on the figure before them, whilst his brother shuffled closer and checked the mammal's vitals.

"Still breathing... "

"Is this real leather?"

J.J. felt the collar of the tall bunny's jacket. "Yep."

"Check for guns."

The tiger gave the unconscious form before him a pat-down, checking for firearms, holsters, as well as knifes and other items that could be used as a weapon. As he found nothing, he noted aloud, "Clear! Not only this, but also no patch, no top-, bottom-, or side-rocker, nothing. That guy is a free rider."

"I don't like this. Not one bit. What if this is a setup?"

In this moment, the bunny in front of them started to move and groan, which made J.J. immediately jump away and raise his pistol.

"ALRIGHT, NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS!" he shouted at the bunny who struggled to get up.

Charles learned the painful way, that he couldn't put any weight on his right paw to get up as a hand grenade of agony detonated in his shoulder. After a second, and successful, attempt to get up, at least into a sitting position, he raised his left arm.

"I'm unarmed, please don't shoot. I had that today already."

"Raise your other arm!" M.J. shouted.

Charles tried, but any movement let loose another explosion of pain.

"Sorry, bud, but I can't. My shoulder seems to have taken a blow after the crash. May I put my other arm down now?"

"Alright. Get up then... but slowly," J.J. said, visibly relaxing now. He felt that no hostility came from the unnaturally tall bunny.

"Thanks," Charles said, as he moved his left arm and gripped his right to give it support. Even the pull of gravity hurt in his shoulder. After that, Charles made it to his feet. Just now he realised that the fall knocked off his shades, which he'd kept since the day his father gave them to him. Luckily, they were not further away than a big step. As he went over and bent down to pick it up, he heard the triggers of the guns being cocked.

"Relax, please," he called out before slowly turning around and revealing the contents of his paw to the two feline brothers, "it's just my shades. Never go anywhere without them."

Both of the felines sighed simultaneously, uncocked their guns and put them back in the respective holsters.

"Is that your bike?" J.J. asked, while pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

Charles nodded in return.

"Awesome craft you got there. I'm really impr-" the tiger started, almost enthusiastically, but was cut off by his brother.

"Who are you, and where did you get that jacket from?!" M.J. asked in a rude tone.

Charles reluctantly introduced himself with his fake name 'Hammer' and started to share parts of his story, while only mentioning what was absolutely necessary. He stated truthfully, that his jacket was a present back when he was just a meer kit. To the follow-up question, why it still fits like a glove, he explained that he was already relatively tall when he was ten years old and the jacket was just a few sizes too big back then. As his origin story, he gave the best lie he could think of. He was kicked out of his home after his eighteenth birthday for various reasons. Two reasons he stated, was that his father was unapproving of his passion for his bike, and his barely legal way of earning a coin. Now, he's on the road, living day by day, from paw to maw, working temporary jobs to stay afloat.

Any details about his time on the Gaupa Farm were swept under the rug during this half-true backstory.

Lastly, he answered the following questions about his bike truthfully; how he got it, what condition it was in and how much passion flowed into restoring it.

The two cats in front of him seemed to believe the story as a whole. Afterwards, Charles asked for the names of of the two strangers and learned that the slim tiger with the yellow eyes was named 'J.J.' and that the heavy liger with the dark brown eyes was his brother 'M.J.'. He didn't know what the abbreviations stood for, neither did he dare to ask. He knew that, if someone introduces himself with a nickname, you should just leave it at that for the time being.

"So… can anyone of you two spare me a smoke? I would roll one myself, but…" Charles left the reason unexplained and only indicated his predicament by nudging his head towards his injured shoulder.

"Oh, of course. M.J.?"

"What?! You think I am freaking vending machine?!" M.J. snarled at his brother.

"Come on, it will be my treat back at the shop."

With this, M.J. sighed and handed him a pack of smokes. Meanwhile, Charles put his right paw into the left inner pocket of his jacket, to keep it in place and freeing up his left paw to take the cigarette and take the lighter, also offered by M.J..

For a while, they smoked in silence before J.J. started talking again.

"So, shall we bring you to a hospital? I mean, your arm doesn't seem to feel pleasant."

Immediately, Charles shook his head. "No, no hospital. I… I'm not insured. Aside, I don't want to have anything to do with the cops. Accident, and so forth, you know?"

The unwillingness to cooperate with the law enforcement seemed to sit well with the brothers.

"Then how about we bring you and your beauty to our workshop? Making her ready for the road again?"

"Michelle."

"Huh?"

"The bike's name… her name is Michelle."

"I gotta give that to you; a beautiful name for a bike," M.J. stated.

"So, deal, Hammer?" J.J. asked, already stretching out his paw towards the bunny.

"Sorry, no can do. You see, I have no money on me."

J.J. lowered his paw and excused himself to make a phone call. It didn't take all too long for the tiger to return and break the somewhat awkward silence between M.J. and Charles.

"Alright, M.J., come on, we got a bike to lift on the flatbed. You, Hammer, get into the driver's cab."

"But I said I don't have…"

J.J. interrupted him by pointing a claw at his chest, somewhat intimidating but not outward hostile. "The name of the game: Fold your paws, shut your jaws! Vulc, the shop owner, wants to see what you've done to the bike and I wouldn't pass up that opportunity."

Charles shut up immediately, only nodding in response.

After lifting the bunny into the driver's cab, the feline brothers lifted the bike onto the flatbed and were in the driver's and passenger's seat a few minutes after, boxing Charles in-between them. The engine rumbled and roared to life as the tall liger Max turned on the ignition and they drove away from the scene. To say that he felt trapped between the two massive and well-armed predators was an understatement to say the least. This feeling, combined with not knowing where they were heading or what would happen when they got there, should've made him fear for his life.

It didn't however. Instead, a grim and somewhat morbid thought nested inside the folds of his brain: _It might be good, or it most likely won't be. Whatever comes next, I've brought it onto myself. Best to accept this now and live with the consequences of my decisions._

The sun had just begun to set as Max made a slow turn to the right and they entered a yard. It looked like a long driveway that was solely covered in asphalt. As Charles looked through the window, he saw three garage gates, large enough to house firetrucks. His gaze wandered to the right, but only found a simple one-story brick building. As his eyes wandered to the right, he saw another building, which could have been a spacious residential house for all he knew. What really caught his eyes however, were multiple parked motorcycles in front of it. Sleek beauties of imposing sizes, but he noticed that five of them were even larger than the rest.

From this alone, Charles could gather that firstly, he definitely was on biker club grounds, with the residential-esque structure being the clubhouse itself, and secondly, the club consists of solely medium to large sized animals. Those might've been assumptions, but his calm exterior, which he maintained with the help of accepting his loss of control over the situation, started to break apart as fear for himself started to seep back into his conscious mind.

His attempt to come up with any plan to make a run for it, however poor it may be, was ended abruptly as Max banged his heavy paw on the outside of the truck's door through the now rolled down window.  
This startled the bunnyfox enough to make him jump and bump his injured shoulder into J.J., reminding him, that any sudden movements and with it, any chance of escape was futile.

"Brothers! Move up, more work before Church!" Max shouted and two wolves and a lion, all wearing the same overalls as the felines in the driver's cabin, emerged from the garages. How Charles could have missed them as he scanned the perimeter was beyond him, but he blamed his trainwreck of nerves.

"Salvage?" the lion asked dryly M.J. as he came up to the driver's window.

"You want to salvage a F-X-W-G Wide Glide? You gotta be joking, right?" J.J. chimed in which earned him grumbles of disapprovement from the other two felines. Without seeming to notice or choosing to ignore it, he continued: "Bring it into box three. Vulc wants to have a look at it."

With this, the passenger door swung open and J.J. hopped out. Turning around, he reached towards Charles who remained frozen. His face stood stoic, but his trembling ears and the run-in moments earlier gave him away to J.J.. With a soft smile and a little wave towards him, he beckoned the terrified half-pred forward.

Charles moved forward and was immediately grabbed by the tiger. He expected a rough handling and another onslaught of agony from his shoulder, but it didn't come. Instead, the tiger lifted him up gently, carefully avoiding any sudden movements.

"We aren't that bad," he whispered and winked at the somewhat surprised bunnyfox before setting him down.

"Who's that fleabag?" came as a question from one of the wolves, who was currently busy finding a good grip to lift the damaged bike off the truck.

Still smiling, the tiger straightened himself up. "Is this how you greet a guest, customer and fellow biker, Goon? You really need to work on your social skills or we'll get a bad review again."

"Fuck you, J.J., you son of a bitch."

"Well, you're not wrong, but let's keep the profession of my mommy-dearest out of here, shall we?"

"You'll surely never change," the wolf began chuckling. "Get your new friend situated and swing your and your brother's tail to Church; the others are already there. We will finish up here."

"Where's Vulc?"

"Clubhouse."

J.J. nodded as to say 'thank you' and shushed Charles gently towards the building he saw earlier. Before they entered, J.J. turned and took a knee before Charles.

"Ok, so here are the ground rules. Greet everyone with respect. A simple nod is not enough; you shake the paws of an Old Lady and you greet a member as follows."

He then proceeded to extend his right paw as if he was doing arm wrestling, just without resting the elbow on a table.

After remembering that the tall bunny in front of him couldn't move his own right arm, he switched and extended his left paw quickly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Now you slap your paw into mine and close it."

Charles did as he was told, and got a nod of agreement in return.

"Next, do not interrupt a member or an Old Lady while they talk to you. You're not member; not a prospect; not a hangaround. They are well above in the hierarchy."

"What's a hangaround?" Charles asked.

"Third, don't ask too many questions. No one likes a stranger sniffing around. And a hangaround is a friend of the club. The prospect to become prospect, if you will."

So far, Charles had no objections to any of those rules; they made sense.

"And lastly, don't try to fuck with us. Don't go anywhere where you're not supposed to be, don't take what isn't yours. We have security cameras everywhere, so you won't be needing a lawyer if we catch you."

"Oh.. uh… ok. I didn't mean to anyway…" Charles stammered nervously. He couldn't explain why he was suddenly so nervous. He knew he wouldn't do anything to purposely upset those people, so the threat shouldn't affect him in any way, but it did anyhow.

"Alright," J.J. sighed as he got back to his full height. "Then we are on the same page. And try to calm down, your listening antennas are vibrating as if you were working a jackhammer."

Self-consciously, he lowered his ears behind his head as he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his nerves.

"We may be rough on the outside, and a bit more to mammals who enter the club when we are not open to the public, but we're still mammals and you got an invitation from Vulc."

"This 'Vulc' that you're going on about…" Charles started, but was immediately cut off.

"He is not the Prez, if you wanted to ask that. But he is a high-ranking member and he owns the repair shop. Come on."

With this final words, J.J. entered the clubhouse. Charles took one deep breath, trying to steady his body without it going rigid.

 _Time to enter the lions' cave. Or wolves' cave? Wolves den? Whatever._

Once inside, he followed J.J. through a somewhat narrow entryway which lead him to a bar area. On the way there, his guide made only one stop to show him the bathroom.

The bar was something that could have belonged in a movie. The walls, floor and bar itself were made from dark mahogany wood. The furniture were some bar stools, three tables with varying amounts of chairs and two couches in a corner, arranged in a L-shape with a coffee table in front. On the other side of the room, where the bar connected with the wall, hung a dartboard and a rather large spot in the middle of said room, which could have been used for more seating areas, throned an impressive and well maintained pool billiard table.

The bar itself was manned by a rather strange looking wolf. While one side of his face and the rest of the body, which Charles could not see, was completely white, the other side was as black as the night. The next thing he noticed were the bartenders pink nose and piercing red eyes. Charles has heard of such a condition called albinism, but has never encountered it, even back in Zootopia, which speaks volumes for the rarity of this condition, but it didn't explain the black fur and how it was so precisely split in the middle.

On the other side of the counter sat another wolf with dark-gray fur, with a smoking cigar between his fingers and a glass of whiskey in the other paw. The conversation they were engaged in ended abruptly as the tiger and the bunny entered.

J.J. stepped forward and greeted the two canines with the same handshake he taught Charles earlier, followed by some short whispering.

"...and this is the owner of the botched shoulder and the Wide Glide we picked up earlier," announced the Tiger and waved him towards them.

As Charles reached the trio of predators, the two wolves gave him the greeting and introduced themselves. The grey wolf was Vulc, and the name of the black 'n' white wolf was Cram. Charles himself introduced himself with his fake name Charles Hammer. During the greeting, the bunnyfox had to make an effort not to stare at Vulc's left eye, as there was a milky layer over his iris and retina, effectively blinding him on the left side.

"So, you're the rider who had dirt for dinner? Must've been tasting awesome if it was worth cracking your shoulder for it," the canine mocked.

It took Charles a few moments to think about a reply, but he decided to go with the joke. "Yeah, I would have… uhh... cracked my other shoulder as well, if J.J. hadn't found me and stopped my feast."

This had the desired effect and everyone was either chuckling or laughing.

"You drink whiskey?" the aged wolf asked and Charles answered with a nod. Snapping his fingers, Vulc ordered a shot of the amber spirit, which had the right size to be a normal-sized drink for the rabbit-fox.

"What brand is that?" Charles asked after taking a sip and felt the burning sensation down his throat.

"Wild Turkey. A staple of our fine establishment. Now, let's have a look at that shoulder. And you two..." he turned as he addressed the tall mammals left in the room, "get your cuts and go to Church. I'll be right there."

J.J. must have seen the bewildered look on Charles' face, because he gave him a reassuring nudge. "Don't worry, Vulc was a good medic, back in his time in the army."

"Good? I was freaking awesome at my job! The ninth platoon would have never made it to Bunker Hill without me."

"Ok, _freaking awesome_ then," the tiger replied with a toothy grin. "Here, take these," he said to Charles while handing him three cigarettes and a lighter "For later. We will be in there for a while."

Charles thanked him and directed his attention back to the older wolf who had already knelt in front of him for examination. He helped the bunny take his jacket off and started to tap around his shoulder.

"Does this hurt?"

"A bit, but not too bad."

"Alright, and here?" he asked as he tapped closer to the area where the arm came out of its socket, making Charles grimace.

"Yeah, that's the spot."

Finally, Vulc grabbed Charles' upper arm and tried to move the shoulder around in a few directions, always stopping when Charles winced.

"Hm… Ok, drink up," the wolf ordered and the bunny obliged, "this is going to suck."

Before Charles could object to what he assumed would happen now, the grip around his upper arm tightened and the wolf's free paw pushed against the side of his ribcage. In one quick motion, Vulc pulled on the arm and twisted it upwards, almost like playing with a doll. All Charles could register were the cracking sounds from his damaged joints, and the blinding pain radiating from there. Before the agony could manifest into a shout, there was a pop and the shoulder was back in its socket.

"Fu-uck! Dude, what the hell? Why didn't you warn me?" Charles' shout turned into groaning as the wolf straightened himself up, his face unphased by the bunny's reaction.

"You're welcome," he said and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the bar and filled Charles' glass. "Have another one. The pain should subside into a pulsating sensation in a few minutes. Afterwards, you will feel numb for a while. Have a seat somewhere; we will talk about your bike once Church is done."

He knew he shouldn't ask too many questions, but he couldn't let this one go.

"Church? Are you religious or am I not getting something here?" he asked, still groaning from the pain.

Vulc was already back at the bar where he put on his leather cut. "Church is our word for the weekly club meeting and has nothing to do with superstition."

With these words, the wolf walked over to the double doors on the far side of the room and closed the them behind him, leaving the bunny alone in the dimly lit bar.

 _Well, that went better than expected. I didn't get mauled, I have smokes and a glass of whiskey. And, he didn't lie, the pain eases quickly._

He slumped on the nearest couch, lit his first cigarette and sipped from his glass.

A few minutes into whiskey and chill, he started to glance around the room again and found one specific wall decoration that caught his eye. As he stood up to walk towards it, he didn't realise that he'd used his right paw to boost him off of the couch. Once he did realise, he felt the warm feeling of happiness in the middle of his guts. The pain was not gone by any means as it fought a losing battle against the settling numbness, but the arm being somewhat useable again was a relief.

As he scooted closer, he saw that there was an area of framed photographs - no, mugshots - of what he assumed were the members. He shoved one of the barstools closer and hopped on it for a better view. On the mugshot itself, he could read the names as well as the aliases of each member and on the picture frame was a plaque which stated their current rank inside the club.

"Dominik 'Doom' Weber - President; Brian 'Bryce' Zacharoy - Vice Pres; Seth 'Slate' Ryden - Road Captain; Paul 'Peace' Whittaker - Secretary; Harrison 'Slugger' Slove - Sergeant at Arms; Victor 'Vulc' Terrice - Treasurer," he whispered as he read the names with fascination.

He would have made it through the whole list, if he hadn't heard someone moving behind the wall and since he was still uncertain of the do's and don'ts around here, he hopped down the stool and put it back in its original place. Afterwards, he hurried back to the couch and tried to look as innocent as he could, which made him look like a kit who was caught with his paw in the cookie jar. There he sat, and nothing happened. No one came out of the room behind the closed doors for the next two hours, but Charles didn't want to risk anything, so he used the time to finish his drink and the other two cigarettes he was given.

After that, Vulc came out of Church alone.

"Seems like you won't meet the others today. Meeting is still going, but I believe we have business to attend to."

Charles got up again and followed Vulc outside to the garages where his Michelle was waiting. As they arrived, the wolf took a fresh cigar from the inside of his cut and lit it with a zippo lighter as he investigated the bike in great detail.

"Where did you find this beauty?"

"A friend gave her to me. He found her in the junkyard that he's working at," he answered truthfully.

"Junkyard?! What an idiot throws away a functioning bike, especially with a custom made sidecar?" Vulc asked rhetorically, his tone filled with outrage.

"Actually, she was barely rideable when I got her. I spent months restoring her. I made the sidecar myself from scratch. All of that kinda ate away at all my savings too," Charles answered before giving a defeated sigh. "That's why I can't afford to repair her."

"Yeah, I heard what you told J.J. and M.J. Vagabond, luck thrown under the bus, hopping from job to job… every pun intended…"

A few quick minutes passed, as Vulc continued to study the bike, specifically the customisations. "You know what? I have an offer."

"I am not selling her!"

"If you would let me finish," he replied somewhat annoyed. "Now, listen closely: I will take her as pawn for fifteen hundred bucks. If you take the money and bounce, I will repair and sell her after six months. If you stay, get a hotel or rent an apartment with that cash, getting your life in order basically, I can offer you a job here at the shop. You can pay me back with no interest, and you can repair her in your free time."

He let that thought linger in the air for another few seconds before he continued. "Or, you get her and yourself out of my yard. You can come back if you have the cash for the repairs. So, what's it gonna be?"

"Why do you offer me a job? You don't know me."

"That is true, but I'm impressed by this handiwork. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn't lie to me when you said you did it all yourself, but if you accept, we will see that on monday anyway."

"In that case…" Charles started his answer, but was cut off by Vulc.

"Monday, oh six hundred sharp," he said, then pulled a wad of cash out of the inner pocket of his cut and started counting out the notes. Once he was done, he handed Charles the notes and added, "Not one minute late."

"Yessir! And thank you!" Charles answered with a salute as he took the money with his other paw. He didn't know why he did it, but it felt just right.

This brought a deep chuckle from Vulc. "I like you, kid, but you have never been in the military. Your posture is all wrong, which makes the salute sloppy. It's enough if you give me the greeting."  
With that, the wolf extended his right paw and Charles took it eagerly.

Just as Charles was leaving the yard, he realised that he didn't know where to go. This hesitation was noticed by Vulc who shouted after him, "Go to Morrison's, twenty minutes down the road. Tell that old bastard of a warthog that I send you. He will give you a room for tonight. Come here tomorrow at twelve and we will get you situated."

Charles answered this with a gleeful smile and waved goodbye.

A few moments went by after Charles had left the yard and Vulc kept watching with mild amusement.

"Hey Doom. You really should work on your stealth; you got sloppy," Vulc said, without averting his gaze from where Charles vanished around the corner.

From beyond the darkness of the night, a black wolf emerged, with a furless burnmark along his jawline and a white streak of fur, which went from the tip of his snout, all the way over his head and vanished under the collar of his leather jacket. "And here I thought an old geezer like you had trouble with his hearing," Doom answered with a gravelly voice.

"Don't underestimate your elders. Besides, it wasn't your sneaking; the smell of wet wolf, old alcohol and cold smoke gave you away," the old wolf replied while tapping his snout and giving his club-president a toothy grin.

"Whatever. You know that I prefer entrances with a boom. So, did the bunny take the job?" he asked, before lighting a smoke.

"Yup, sure did. And J.J. was right. He does a fine job and is humble about it."

"So?"

"If one is not boasting about his talents, that means he shows great potential."

"Or he is just shy."

"We can work with that. Shyness is something you can overcome. Who knows, he might be a good addition to the club one day."

"Don't be ridiculous," Doom growled. "I'm with Slugger on that one: we started as a wolf-exclusive M.C. and we stay that way."

"Coming from a grizzly bear like Slugger... is _this_ why we have a lion, two tigers and two bears in our ranks?" Vulc asked sarcastically.

"Exceptions to the rules, made for large predators and surely not for any bunny or other prey. Besides, we don't know that guy."

"First, times change, and so do rules. Secondly, you may be right, but if he shows up on monday - and he will - we will get to know him over time."

"If you say so. You vouch for him and as soon as he starts humping the furniture, he is out and you will face the consequences," he stated, glaring daggers at Vulc.

"Yeah, you made that crystal clear during Church. And third - before I forget it - I don't think he is a bunny."

"What d'you mean?" Doom asked while flicking his cigarette bud away. "Buck Teeth, twitchy nose, ears like satellite dishes. He might be taller than your regular rabbit…"

"And he has fangs," Vulc interrupted his superior bluntly.

"He what now?" The surprise was evident in his tone.

"He has fangs," the old wolf repeated, "saw them while he spoke and I knelt next to his bike. It seems like he tries to hide them by not speaking much and keeping his head down whilst doing it, but they are evident once you're aware of them."

"So, what is he then? A prey-dator? Is that even possible?"

"I don't know yet, but I guess we'll find out."

"Whatever it is, him being a prospect is not your call, neither is it mine. It's a unanimous club decision and I know Slugger and Goon will rather let hell freeze over than accepting anyone remotely resembling a prey to be part of the club."

"What about you?"

"For me, he is a vagabond, nothing more."

"Well, I know someone who was a homeless wanderer in his former life. Nowadays, he is your V.P.," he said grinning widely.

"The thing with Bryce is something different, end of discussion! Now shut up and get!" Doom almost shouted while pointing towards the clubhouse.

For a few seconds, both wolves glowered at each other in silence, neither of them backing down. Then, out of nowhere, Doom started to crack a smile. "In there waits a beer-mug with your name on it."

With this, both started to laugh.

"Sure, whatever you say, boss," Vulc said as he walked past Doom who swatted playfully at him and missed on purpose.

"A bunny riding with the Wolves of War..." Doom mumbled to himself, still smiling as he took off after his club-brother, "that old geezer really has lost his mind."

Twenty minutes later, Charles found himself in front of the cheap motel called 'Morrison's Pinecone Motels'. One where you'd expect to find drug-users, prostitutes and the occasional murderer, but none of that was present. The building was probably just old and poorly maintained. Or the scum of the city didn't roam the city's streets at night. Whichever it was, no one bothered him and he appreciated that.

His path lead him to a small side building, which had the letters 'Reception' nailed to a sign above its door. To be honest, the name spelled 'Re ept on' since the letters 'c' and 'i' had fallen off, but it was clear what it tried to indicate.

Charles had no idea how late it was, but that ultimately didn't matter, since there were no opening times written anywhere near the entrance, so he knocked, hoping that the reception was still occupied.

Between grunts and short squeaks - and what sounded like the end of a stress test for bedsprings - he heard a muffled "We're closed. Come again whenever."

"Vulc sends me. He said you'd give me a room for the night or two," Charles said, already sounding a bit desperate. No way he would find the materials or a place to set up a makeshift camp, neither did he ever want to be forced to do it again.

"Minute!" came the short reply and from beyond the door, Charles could hear the continuation of the stress test, before it stopped with a final loud creek. After some more moments of faint rummaging, the door buzzed and the bunnyfox pushed the door open to find an obese warthog standing behind a reinforced counter.

The dirty glass panel, separating possible temporary residents and the landlord - or whoever gives out the keys to the rooms - had one half circle hole at the bottom was used to exchange keys and cash, while another set of grated holes near at the height of the warthog's snout, made it easier for his voice to be heard.

Charles made his way forward, using the stepping tool, provided for smaller mammals to reach up to the counter and saw an open door on the wall behind the glass. Through it, he saw what produced the metal crunching sound: an old, worn out bed frame.

"Vulc sent you, huh?" the burly swine asked, but continued before Charles could respond. "twenty-five bucks a night, no loud music, cash only, no breakfast. ID?"

"Here you go," Charles said while handing his fake ID through the half-circle opening, along with the twenty-five dollars.

The pig studied the ID and gave out a few snorts in the meantime. Without looking up from the ID, the hog reached over to a cabinet and pulled out a set of keys. Afterwards, he grabbed the cash and shoved the ID, keys and a book over the counter back to the leatherjacket wearing bunny.

"Sign in on our guest book and you're good to go. Vending machines for snacks and drinks and the ice-box are on the ground level, next to room three. Your room number is thirteen on the second floor."

"Glad that I'm not superstitious, eh?" Charles asked in an attempt of humor, which only brought him a confused look.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before the landlord continued. "You will find a set of rules in a binder on your desk. Follow them or you'll get thrown out. The binder also contains the WiFi code."

"Sure will do. Anything else?"

"If you have a car, or any other vehicle, you can use the parking space with your room number on it. Aside from that, that's all."

With a nod, both meant as a 'thank you' and a farewell, Charles hopped down the stool and made his way outside, across the parking lot, got himself two bottles of beer and a chicken&egg sandwich from the vending machines, then he went up the outside stairs of the building and into room thirteen.

As he entered, he realised that after the crash with his bike and the rescue by the feline brothers, he forgot to search for his duffle and that he looked far from presentable, given the dirt on his clothes.

He looked around and found a clock on the wall, telling him that it was just shy of eleven p.m.

In the lack of anything better to do aside from zapping through the T.V. channels, he decided that he could use a shower and do his laundry by paw in the bathtub or sink or whatever this place had to offer.

He laid all his belongings, which hadn't gotten lost, on the bedside table: His wallet, the wad of cash, which he hadn't cared to stow away in the wallet earlier, the set of room keys, the key to his motorcycle, the tobacco pouch that Harald had given him, some stray bottle caps and coins and his father's aviators.

 _I should really get a phone. I mean, I have no-one to call, but at least I can browse the internet._

Pushing aside the thought about the lack of entertainment, aside from the small T.V. in the room, he unbuckled his belt and went into the bathroom. It was not as grimy as the outside of the building might have suggested, but it was far from a comfortable atmosphere. A sink with a mirror, a toilet and a shower were all that had been crammed in there. He did find complementary fur-shampoo as well as a plastic-sealed toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste on the sink, which reminded him that his breath must smell like death, given that the last time he brushed was back at his old home.

After showering and brushing his teeth - which made him feel like a brand new mammal - he went ahead washed his clothes in the sink and hung it over the acrylic glass door of the shower while he used the shampoo as a makeshift laundry detergent.

Naked and with his fur a bit too damp for his liking, he grabbed the sandwich, one beer bottle and the remote, flopped onto the bed and started zapping away to find a movie. Twenty minutes into 'Die Hard' & chill, he heard a knock on the door.

 _What the hell?! Who could that be?_ he thought while glancing to the clock again, _who goes around knocking on doors at midnight_.

"This is Deputy Siljan Clawson, open up please," came the voice through the door.

 _The police? God fucking dammit, I'm so fucked._

He got up and went for the door, just in time to realise he was still naked and his clothes were far from dry.

"Give me a sec, I'm not properly dressed."

Charles made his way back to the bathroom and reluctantly pulled on his damp undergarment and hated every second of it. There was no feeling worse for him as to slip into wet clothes.

Less than twenty seconds later, he opened the door and saw a red fox in a light brown county-police uniform standing in front of him.

"How can I help you, Sir?"

"Good evening. As I said, my name is deputy Clawson and I have a few questions. May I come in?"

"Definitely not!" Charles wanted anything else but to talk to the police. He knew that saying anything slightly suspicious, which he would if this conversation would drag any longer than necessary, would lead to his background story being investigated. This would most probably reveal his age, his origin and with that, grant him a one-way ticket back to Zootopia. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he did consider reuniting with his parents for a split second. This thought was immediately crushed by his own certainty that taking this road would put his parents' marriage in jeopardy again though, simply by the way he was. In his still juvenile mind, he was convinced that living like this was the best for everyone involved. Nick, Judy and his siblings would move on - if they hadn't already - and he could live as he was supposed to; wild and free. With that in mind, he tried to cut this conversation short by any means necessary. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I am aware, Sir, but you have been seen with a group of mammals we are investigating. May I have your name for the record?"

"Charles Hammer. And what mammals are we talking about?"

"A local biker gang called the Wolves of War. You were seen at their repair shop. What was your business there?"

"I was there to get my bike fixed; nothing else."

Clawson pulled out a notebook and started to flip through the pages. "You've gone into their clubhouse for about two hours. Have you seen anything suspicious?"

Carles sighed in annoyance and replied, "No. I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything, so I can't say anything. Is that all?"

"Not quite. May I ask what you're doing here in Bristleville?"

"I'm on a trip through the country and the engine of my bike cut out. What's that got to do with anything anyway?"

Again, the uniformed fox flipped through his notebook. "Probably nothing. What about the damage on your motorcycle?"

"Parking accident," the bunny lied. "Getting that fixed as well. Can we wrap this up, finally? If I'm not under arrest, I would like to continue my movie." Charles knew he was really testing his luck right now, as he could be taken into custody for twenty four hours - he learned that by listening to his parents' conversation about work in the past - but he knew the police couldn't hold him for any longer than this without evidence of a crime. And since he technically did nothing wrong, he had nothing to lose.

Siljan Clawson eyed the tall bunny in front of him for several moments, evaluating his next step. Coming to the conclusion that if the bunny was involved with the club in any way, he wouldn't get any new information by simply talking to him.

He would have to bring him in for questioning, but his and the department's reputation could not take another hit. Far too many complaints have been filed in the recent years, ranging from excessive force all the way up to forging evidence.

And these complaints were not pulled out of thin air, as one officer did try to plant some drugs in the house of one club member to frame him, but was caught on that biker's private CCTV cameras.

In this situation, bringing anyone in for questioning with nothing more than a light suspicion would push the public's opinion further towards the club, as they would definitely use it to polish their image as 'your friendly neighbourhood motorcycle enthusiasts', while he would be seen as the 'crooked cop with a lust for vengeance'.

Siljan had no other options than to keep up his stake-out and hope to catch them red-pawed.

"Yes, that's all. Sorry for disturbing you at this hour," he said while he pulled out a business card from his shirtpocket and handed it to Charles. "If you find anything out of the ordinary, please call us. Good night."

"Good night, Deputy," Charles said with a bored expression as he took the card.

"Asshole," Siljan mumbled, as the door was closed.

Once the buff bunny closed the door to his apartment, he threw away the card in the trash bin and flopped back onto his bed.

 _Well fuck. What did I get into this time? Can't I get a little rest once in a while?_

 _You could, but you don't want to,_ the voice in the back of his mind answered joyfully. _You are born for the action, Charlie. If not, you'd go back to your boring life, continue your boring school and get a boring job. Or... you keep it exciting and fuck up your family some more. Need I remind you what happened yesterday at the farm after life got exciting again?_

 _Shut up! Damn, not even me, myself and I can cut me some slack._

He pushed his inner argument aside to concentrate on the movie and finish his beer. At around two in the morning, the movie ended and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 9 - Searching in Circles

**13th of August 2006 5:57 a.m.**

 **Vulcano Customs, Bristleville, Boarderlands County**

Bent over, wheezing and coughing under his breath - and swearing to himself to smoke less, if not to give it up completely - Charles stood on the asphalted driveway of the repair garage.  
Given yesterday's events, his injury to the shoulder, the rollercoaster of emotions of meeting a club of bikers and the late-night visit from the law enforcement, the bunnyfox almost overslept and missed his appointment with Vulc.

The walk from the Pinecone Motels to the garage took twenty minutes yesterday. Today, however, he managed to get out of bed, put on his still-not-completely-dry clothes and dash the whole way in less than fifteen minutes.

"Alright, boy, catch your breath," Vulc said, as he hopped off the oil drum he was sitting on.

"Sorry… " Charles replied before wheezing again. "I really didn't want to be late, that's all."

"Are the beds of that Trufflesniffer that bad?"

"Nope, not really, but I had a strange encounter with a fox yesterday."

"With who exactly?" Vulc asked, even though he had a good hunch who that blasted red fox might be.

"He said that his name was Clawson. Said he was the Deputy. Strangely enough, he asked me if I had seen anything while I was in the clubhouse, about the damage of my bike and what not."

"How in the name of Brother Death would he know you were inside?" the wolf asked rhetorically, anger getting the better of him.

"No idea," Charles said after taking another big breath and feeling his heart stop racing. "The only thing I can think about is a stake-out."

"A stake-out?"

Now, Charles had to think of a lie again, and a quick one at that. He couldn't tell him that his parents talked about such procedures when off work. "Yeah, I have seen that in movies. They would camp out in an abandoned building, or an abandoned part of it, or a rented room of a hotel, whatever. Anyway, it needs to be a place where you have a good view, so that you know exactly who's arriving and leaving at whatever place you're watching."

"I know what a stake-out is; I'm not an idiot," Vulc said as his gaze went to the two-story building across the street, with a grocery store in the first, and some apartments on the second floor. His eyes narrowed as he fixated on one particular window. As Charles followed his gaze, he saw faint movement behind one of the glass panels. "But thanks for telling me. I think we got that much closer to getting you situated."

"What do you mean with 'situated'?"

Without averting his stern look from the building, Vulc took a thick cigar out of his jacket and lit it with a zippo. Charles loved the metallic click sound as the expensive lighter snapped open and shut, and out of seemingly nowhere, the wish of owning one himself crossed his mind.

Vulc exhaled a thick puff of smoke audibly before he continued, a bit louder than necessary. "Well, I offered you a job as a mechanic and you don't have any connections here, so it would just be natural to provide you with a place to stay. For a fair price, of course."

Charles figured that the increase in volume was not aimed at him or his hearing - quite frankly, he never had any problems with that - but that it was meant to be picked up by any recording device in close proximity as to be a part of a normal job interview.

"Are you working in real estate or can you just give me that offer?"

"How about we take a walk? It's such a nice Sunday, and I could show you around a bit?"

That was Charles' cue to start walking. When they were a good distance away from the shop, Vulc ordered Charles to lift his shirt. A countermeasure, just to check if he was wired.

The bunnyfox obliged and showed that he was in fact free from any hidden microphones.

"Alright, first off, fold your paws and shut your jaws! ESPECIALLY when you suspect that you're being recorded," the old wolf almost shouted, his index claw pointed at Charles menacingly. After seeing that this open display of anger startled the tall bunny in front of him enough, he continued in the same calm manner that he showed yesterday. "No, I don't work in real estate, but another member does: Slate. Don't worry; you will get to know him eventually. He hangs around the bar most evenings. Don't know much about this whole property business thing anyway. What I do know though, is that the apartment in which our friends and helpers were playing hide and seek, has been up for sale for years now."

"And why would this 'Slate' buy it now then?"

"You aren't the smartest of bunnies, huh? You did realise we can be easily spied on from that building? If it's our property, we can decide who can walk in and out."

Swallowing his pride, Charles chose not to react to the insult and continued like nothing happened. "So, it's a deal then? Me, working for you, starting on Monday?"

"If you're not bouncing, sure. You'll have twelve-hundred by the end of the month, maybe more if you show your skill. But I can't offer you more since I'm sure you don't have any references or certificates to your name."

"You're right; I don't. I still don't understand why you're offering me this."

"I told you yesterday, I saw your handiwork. Besides, I don't give a shit about certificates. Those are just sheets of paper and I judge mammals by their actions."

"In that case, I gladly accept," Charles said, somewhat reassured and held out his paw towards the wolf in anticipation of the greeting, which he received.

"And while we are on the topic of bouncing, that's exactly what I'll do. The yard needs some swiping. I guess someone forgot some electronics around the place," Vulc said grinning, while winking at the bunnyfox with his white eye, blinded by the cataract. "It's a shame though; I wanted to show you around. Guess you'll have to go exploring by yourself. I should have some intel about the apartment tomorrow."

With that, and before Charles could ask any further questions - not that he had any significant ones at the moment - Vulc turned around, walked off, and pulled out his phone to gather some club members for cleaning the yard.

Still a bit unsure on what to do next, Charles let a few moments pass, before turning around and putting on his shades, as he made his way through town. Once he had finished bending the frame back gently, the shades were in a far better condition than he would've expected them to be after an accident like his.

He did take note that some shop signs, like the ones from the pawnshop and the gun store, had the same symbol next to them. The same symbol that he'd seen on Vulc's, J.J.'s and M.J.'s cut: A feral wolf with piercing red eyes and flames spitting out of its gaping maw. Just from that, he could gather that the owners of said shops were members as well.

After a good hour of walking around, he remembered the considerable wad of cash in his pocket and decided to treat himself with a visit to the nearest mixed species restaurant and weird out their patrons by eating some chicken wings and drinking a beer. He really deserved a hot meal and a cold drink. Or two. Or three.

 **4th of December 2006 06:27 a.m.**

 **Precinct one, Zootopia**

"But Chief, our efforts brought down the Razorhat gang. You can't put us back on simple patrols!" Nick said, more than furious. He and his wife were facing the biggest challenge yet.

"Wilde, _I_ do the assignments in MY precinct. So, if you don't shut up THIS INSTANCE...," Bogo bellowed. If he continued his reprimanding, Judy was sure that the glass doors of the numerous showcases in the Chief's office would've shattered by the sheer anger in his voice alone.

This was not the first time that she and her husband were in this office for similar reasons. Quite the opposite; over the course of the past three months, they'd sat in this office, trying as they might to prolong their own crusade to find their boy. From their first visit all the way up until now, the room felt more and more claustrophobic - in contrast to its giant size - as their arguments ran thinner.

On one paw, their efforts had lead to investigations which had brought two syndicates to their respective dooms. One of these was the infamous Razorhat gang, who mainly stayed in Happy Town, but the cop duo's methods had become more and more crooked, mostly through using Nick's former life. Information that he shouldn't've had, questionable withdrawals from ATMs, and multiple outgoing calls from Judy's phone to a certain 'Fru-Fru Big' were just a few things on an ever growing list. Not only was the cop duo a serious thorn in Bogo's tail on their own; their actions also caused Internal Affairs to file multiple complaints, which the Chief could not ignore any longer.

"Chief, all we ask are just a few more days. We will do our job as good as we've always done," she interrupted in an attempt to defuse the situation before either of the other two mammals exploded. Either her boss as the thirteen-hundred pound brick of C4, or her husband, the forty pounds worth of fuse.

She had managed to calm them down, but it had done nothing towards convincing her boss.

With a big sigh, the chief relaxed back into his chair, which creaked heavily under the numerous years of constant use. "I can't, Hopps. You know what's at stake. You know, more than anyone, _including_ your insubordinate husband, that Internal Affairs is looking into you two, and they're in their right to do so."

That was strange. Bogo always shielded his officers from any harm; he even took the blame for bad press conferences, which was the reason he did most of them by himself after the Nighthowler fiasco. But now, he sided with the department which had been actively working against the bravado-duo lately.

"Sir, I don't…" Nick started in a conciliatory tone, but was cut off by the buffalo.

"You don't understand?! How come that only two days after we arrested Thomas Shelbay and his brothers, his property was… let's say 'taken over'… by Tundratown Limo Services, an organisation that still has ongoing investigations?"

Nick could just swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

"The fact that there were multiple calls to a member of the Big family ties my hoofs. I.A. can't directly connect you two to the mammals in the morgue, caused by this hostile takeover, but I need you to know: We have a protocol for a good, damn reason! Not following it can have dire consequences," Bogo continued and suddenly, the air in the room felt as thick and unbreathable as exhaust fumes to the bunny and fox. "I'm a father myself, so this is the sole reason why you two still wear your shields. I understand your reasoning, and with Wilde's intel, I would have done the same. But this is the exact reason why I WILL NOT cut you loose in the upcoming future. Did I make myself clear!?"

Truly broken, both looked at their feet which dangled from the oversized chair that they were sitting in. A weak "Yessir" was their unisoned answer.

Both slid down from the chair, Judy's natural spring was all but gone.

 **11th of December 2006 7:42 p.m.**

 **Wilde-Hopps Residence, Zootopia**

The family was enjoying a nice home-cooked dinner. Aside from the unnerving blanket of silence that had been over the family members for the last week, everything seemed fine for once. This peace - so fragile as it may have become as the tension between the parents rose - was a nice change for once.

"The eggs are a bit burned…" Nick stated absently with a piece of scrambled egg in his mouth.

 _There it is. Here we go again,_ Tiberius thought as he reclined back into his chair with a groan and looked at the ceiling in disbelief.

Lilith looked at her father in shock, then with fear towards her mother who was already grinding her teeth and clenched her fist around the cutlery she was holding with a painful amount of force.

Both kits knew what would happen next. For a week now, both Nick and Judy started to explode on each other over the pettiest things. The TV being left on, the toilet seat being left up, or a scrambled egg meal which was ever so slightly burned. And no one was dumb enough to think that these were the real reasons they were fighting. It was clearly their inability to continue the search for Charles and the desperation over not finding any significant leads for the past three months.

"Then stop eating it!" Judy hissed through her teeth.

"And then what? Starve? I guess you'd like that huh?"

"You could make your OWN meal for once, if I'm such a bad cook! In fact, you could do SOMETHING around the house in general. I'm working as well, you know?!"

"Oh and me doing laundry is nothing or WHAT?!"

"You mean RUINING MY WHITE SHIRTS, MY FAVORITE SHIRTS, by washing them together with your ugly, _colored_ pawaiians or BURNING THEM WITH THE IRON!?"

"That only happened ONE TIME! God, it's true, you women always dig up the past when it suits you!"

Lilith had enough. It was hard enough with her big brother still missing, but the constant fighting finally wore her down. She started tearing up and ran to her room, locking herself in.

"Sweety…" Nick said, one paw extended in the direction his daughter left, a shocked and devastated expression plastered his face.

"Well done, you dumb fox!" Judy snapped at him before they heard a clattering on the table. It was Tiberius' fork which was thrown onto the table with quite an amount of force.

"Well done to the both of you!" Tiberius' face was grim, his ears pushed themselves against the back of his skull and his dark glower fixated first on his mother, then his dad.

His features relaxed, as he sighed and got up. "I will look after her; my appetite is gone anyway. You two did enough damage for one week. Pull yourselves together, will ya?"

With his paws in his pockets, he slowly made his way towards Lilith's room.

A few moments passed while Nick and Judy were staring at their half finished meal in shame. Both knew that Tiberius was right.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I mean, the eggs are good, just a little on the dark side."

"Me too. You apologized for the laundry incident and you just wanted to help. I shouldn't have brought up the past in my anger."

"What is happening to us, honey? We can't go on like this or we will rip out each other's throats over spilled milk."

"You're right, Nick, but I have no idea what to do…"

"Let me take care of these first," Nick said while he picked up their plates to start the process of washing up. "Maybe we should see a counselor?"

Lost in thoughts, Judy looked at her wedding band before nodding. "Anything to save this family. Wait up, I'll help." Judy got up and brought the remaining dishes over to her fox, who was already scraping the remaining food into the trash can.

Meanwhile, Tiberius knocked on Lilith's door.

"Go away!" Lilith shouted between sobs.

"Not gonna happen, Silly-Lilly."

Tiberius tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge, so he fished a credit card out of the breast pocket of his button down shirt and he slid it into the crack between door and its frame. With experience - which also stemmed from Baron's teachings - he used the card to push the latch back and the door swung open.

There, sitting on her bed, he saw his sister, hugging and burying her face in her pillow. He expected a fight from her, as he entered without her permission. Maybe an outraged uproar, but nothing of that sort happened. As if she hadn't noticed or had simply stopped caring altogether.

She didn't even twitch as he took a seat beside her. Only as he gingerly put a paw on her head and stroked down, she leaned into him without letting go of her pillow as if it would shield her from all of the outside world.

"There, there, lil' Lilly, everything is alright; I'm here," Tiberius tried to sooth her. "I know, everything looks like shit, but that will change again, I promise."

"It won't," came her muffled reply.

"It will. You remember what you told me at the HiFi-Forge a few months back? That you don't want to lose both of your brothers."

She just nodded ever so slightly, not enough to be visible, but the male bunnyfox felt his sister's head move against him.

"Well, now it's my time to give you a much needed pep-talk. I don't want to lose my sister either. I needed you as much then, as I do still, just like you need me now. I won't go away, please don't fall in the same pit I was in."

"But mom and dad… I can't stand when they keep fighting constantly..."

"They need both of us. We need to look out for them. Maybe now it's time for us to educate our parents. We must try to be their beacon of light."

"You know, as much of an ass as you can be sometimes, you can be just as sweet as well." With this, she cast away her pillow and hugged her brother with a quick peck on his cheek. "Thanks, Tib. You are the best brother I could wish for."

"There is my little sissy again. Compliment accepted and given back to you."

 **18th of December 2006 10:33 a.m.**

 **Tundratown, Zootopia, ZPD Police Cruiser**

"Turn up the heat again."

"Are you kidding me? It's hot as an oven in here!"

"For you, maybe. We rabbits don't get a winter pelt like you canids do!"

"Alright, you know what? Here!" Nick turned up the heat of the car to full blast. "There you go: no more reason for you to keep complaining! I'm going to take a walk."

Nick knew he had to get out of the car before someone's emotions boiled over once again. Over the past week, both of them did a good job of bottling up their emotions and not fight over every tiny bit. It worked wonders for them to simply not talk whatsoever. It did nothing for the harmony of the family and only served to increase the tension, but ever since they started losing hope after Chief Bogo almost forcefully stopped their investigations, their desperation turned into unchecked anger.

Nick got out of the car, slammed the door shut with more force than necessary and went into the next alleyway, away from the eyes of his wife. As he arrived there, he pulled out a small bottle from his pockets and read the label: Clomicalm, 80 mg, prescription calmative.

With a dull look on his face, he opened the bottle, popped two pills in his mouth and chewed on them. He knew he took too much of this stuff already, and he knew he should only swallow them with water, but he needed to calm down fast. The act of chewing them was a bitter tasting affair, but the medicine worked far quicker than the usual way of swallowing the pills whole.

A few minutes passed and he felt the effects finally kicking in. His nerves started to calm, his surroundings started to feel pleasantly fuzzy and the edge was taken off at last. He felt ready to continue this day of patrol, another day laid to waste when he is not searching for his boy.

"Ok, one more; just to be sure," Nick mumbled to himself as he popped a third Clomicalm.

"How many?" Judy asked after Nick returned to the cruiser and shut the door behind him.

"Hm?"

"How many did you take now?"

"Three," Nick answered truthfully but reluctantly.

"THREE?! The prescription says you should only take one in the morning and one in the evening. You've got to be kidding me!"

"Thanks, mom. I can take care of myself."

Judy was furious again. First, this insufferable fox barked at her for simply feeling cold. Secondly, he walked out on her without giving her a chance to reply and lastly, he took the time to get dangerously close to being high on duty. The fact that he got a prescription drug without telling her about any doctor's appointments raised all kinds of red flags, but she reasoned with herself that it was due to the fact that they hadn't been talking much lately. That would at least be a more comfortable explanation than her worries of him sneaking off into the arms of a vixen. She believed that he was fateful, the same way she was, but she had to admit: Their bedroom activities have come to a screeching halt alongside the decline of their conversations.

But before she could say a word, the radio crackled to life. "Precinct One to patrol sixteen, Wilde-Hopps, do you copy?"

"Here is patrol sixteen, what's up, Benji?" Nick asked the microphone in a deeply tired, almost devastated tone.

"Officer Fanghanel has some news regarding the possible whereabouts of a certain tall bunnyfox. It's not much, he says, but it's a lead. Oh and I should tell you and I quote 'the ol buffalo-butt has already been taken care of; you are back on the case'."

Judy squealed and bounced around in her seat, while Nick had a genuine grin on his muzzle.

"Thanks, Benji. We'll head right back to the precinct," Nick said and clicked the microphone back in its holster.

He then yelped in surprise as a gray ball of joy and fluff tackled him from the side and hugged his neck, almost to the point of strangulation.

After recomposing herself, Judy put the car back into gear and they made their way straight back to the precinct. The only detour they took was the bakery, collecting a box of doughnuts for Clawhauser and a pumpkin pie for Elliot.

 **18th of December 2006 11:07 a.m.**

 **Precinct One, Zootopia**

They had just dropped off the sweets on Clawhauser's desk before they were ushered outside again by Elliot. "Come on, no time; I will explain on the way," he said.

Three car doors opened and were slammed shut, three seat belts snapped into their locks, one engine rumbled to life and the car started its journey eastwards.

"Now, stop torturing us. Where are we heading?" Nick asked impatiently after the first few yards.

"You guys remember…" Elliot started, but then took a second to sniff the air in the car. "Alright, Nick, give me the bottle," he grumbled and extended his paw towards Nick.

"Wha...? What bottle, I-I don't have any…" Nick stammered and he felt the deathglare Judy was giving him.

"Oh, is that so? Why do I smell clomipramine on your breath then?"

Nick exhaled in defeat. "Is it that obvious?"

"Nah, it's faint, but during my extra courses in narcotics detection, I learned to pick up the faintest traces of substances," Elliot explained before - somewhat frantically - opening and closing his outstretched paw. "So, bottle, now."

Nick complied and dropped the medicine into the still outstretched paw. Elliot then proceeded to stow it away in his jacket. He wanted to throw these pills out of the window right here and there for his friend's sake, as this brand was notorious for being extremely effective but also highly addictive and easy to overdose on, hence the prescription requirement. **  
**  
"Bogo won't hear a word from me, I promise. But buddy, think twice whether you really need them or not. You know how dangerous these can be. Maybe you settle for something a bit lighter? Green tea is a stress reliever as well."

"I know, I know. But please, can we concentrate on what's coming up? Where are we heading?"

"Alright, so, after we learned that the chief pulled you from all investigations?"

Nick and Judy nodded.

"A few of us, namely Wolford, Higgins, Clawhauser and myself sprang into action. Mostly contacting other counties to extend our search radius. So we hung up flyers in the southern, eastern and northern parts of our county borders."

"Please tell me you found him!" Judy shouted from the back, all giddy and worked up. Elliot hated to apply brakes to the happiness he hasn't seen in his good friend for a long time.

"Sadly, no. I told Benji to tell you that we have a lead. If we would've found him, I would already be on my way back with Charlie."

Judy went quiet again and her ears dropped down like lead weights.

"What did you guys find then? And where are we heading?" Nick asked as he sensed that his wife's disappointment had made her speechless yet again.

"We are going to Clearwater. My buddy over there, a cougar named Hector Bitinberger, the sheriff, gave me a call before I contacted you. In the first week, many of the missing-posters were ripped down, no matter how often they hung them up again. First, Hector thought those were just some vandals, rascals who had nothing better to do with their free time.

But ol' Hector had a hunch. He realised that nothing else was vandalized, only the flyers of Charles. And just an hour ago, they caught someone redpawed as he was ripping off one of the posters. A rather aggressive and highly intoxicated lynx by the name of Harald Gaupa."

"Harald Gaupa? Never heard of that guy. Any idea what his connection to our boy is?"

"Not a single clue. Hector put him in a dry-out cell for the time being and gave me a call. Said that he will have an interrogation room ready as soon as we arrive. Maybe it's nothing, but we need to check it anyway. For your sake."

"Thank you, buddy. Next round at the Blue Ribbon is on me!" Nick exclaimed. Elliot was right; it wasn't much, but more than they had the past three months.

"Yeah, thank you, Elliot," came Judy's whisper from the back seat.

"Don't mention it, you guys. We are friends and that's what friends do. But if you really want to express your gratitude, don't forget about Clawhauser, Higgins and Wolford. It was Benji's idea, and the other two did the same as I did, contacting the other city chiefs and county sheriffs and all that jazz."

"Don't worry, when I said that the 'next round's on me', that was meant for all who helped. So, how long until Clearwater?"

Elliot took a look at the clock on the dashboard. "Three more hours. Enough time for this Gaupa to sober up enough for you to put him into a vice," he ended his statement with a wink.

"If he did anything to our boy…" Judy started to grumble.

"... he will regret it for a long time," Nick ended Judy's sentence with a determined growl.

It could've warmed the white wolf's heart, to see his best friends and favourite couple working together as a team again, even with finishing each other's sentences, but the dire implications and their determination sent a shiver down his spine.

 **18th of December 2006 2:27 p.m.**

 **Interrogation room four, Sheriff station, Clearwater**

There he was. That one mammal that has last seen Charles. The one mammal that might know about Charles' whereabouts, sitting there clearly fighting a headache. All that separated the fox and bunny from the answers they hoped to get was the two-way mirror, through which they observed the lynx.

"Harald Gaupa, local farmer, best known for his homebrew beer in town. Lives with his daughter, wife deceased. Quite rough 'round the edges, but nothing outta the ordinary. No criminal record; just some squabbles in his youth, but that's common. Boys will be boys afterall. Neighb'rs say he lives quite secluded since his wife died, only meets the folks for busin'ss, not participating directly with any shindig. He does contribute, however, by brewing some extra beer for these festivals. Y'all should try it sometimes if ya get the chance," Hector concluded as he read the sparse details from a thin binder.

"I'll pass," Nick said bluntly while keeping a stern glare at the mammal beyond the glass. Something did not sit well for Nick. He couldn't put a claw on it, but he knew something was up with this lynx.

"Ah, I see who is doin' the bad cop in yar routine. Good ol' interrogation one-oh-one," the old cougar stated, almost too joyfully. "Anything else y'all need or should I leave ya guys to it?"

"Nah, thanks Hector, that'll be all," Elliot said and patted his friend on the shoulder, and the sheriff made his way out of the darkened room.

As the three were alone again, the white wolf sighed deeply. "What d'you guys think?"

"Something's up with that guy," Judy said as she read through the file. "Clean vest, but he seems to have grief with our son. Why else would he just rip off the posters?"

"I'm with Judy on this one. This guy knows something, I can feel it and we _will_ find out exactly what," Nick said, his paws clenched into fists.

"Alright, you two go in, it's your deal anyway. If anything goes sideways, I'll be right here."

"What should go sideways, White Fang?"

"You two could," Elliot stated in a worried tone. "Please, keep it professional. This is an investigation, and not a witch-hunt."

With this, Nicks paws relaxed and after a quick look, he grabbed two handkerchiefs from his pocket. His claws had pierced his pads without him realising and the puncture wounds were now bleeding. He really needed to get a grip on his emotions again. He really wished for just one or two more pills; that's exactly what he needed right now.

' _Exactly… what… I… would… need…'_

"Come on, let's do this," Judy chimed grimmly, effectively ripping Nick out of his short stupor and they made their way into the interrogation room itself.

"Mr. Gaupa?" Judy started as they took a seat across from the lynx.

"Yep," came the short reply.

"I'm officer Judith Wilde-Hopps and this is my husband Nicolas."

"More of those interspecies city folks," Harald mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Judy asked with a raised eyebrow. "You know that this meeting is being recorded and insulting officers is a criminal offense."

"Sorry," he apologized halfheartedly. "It's just unusual 'ere in the Commonwealth. But wha' am I 'ere for? Being drunk in public has been legal for nearly two decades 'round 'ere."

"Sir, you vandalized a poster of a mammal we are searching for."

"A fugitive huh? I knew som'thin' wasn't right with that pelt. Should've pulled the trigger after all, would've saved ya folks alotta of trouble."

"You should have done WHAT?" the fox shouted, his anger boiling over once more. A quick brush of Judy's foot against his calf reminded him he needed to stay calm at any cost. How she could stay with her mind in check was a mystery to him nowadays.

"Woah there officer, didn' know that gettin' rid of a stray was such a touchy subject," Harald defended himself with his paws open and raised to the height of his shoulders.

"Mr. Gaupa, please tell me everything from the start. Don't miss out on any detail as it could be crucial," the bunny interjected.

"A'ight, it all start'd that one mornin', I think it was early August or som'thin', when that vagabond knocked on mah door. He looked like he worshed himself in a puddle of mud like one of those naturalist pigs. As the good mammal tha' I am, I invited 'im in of course, gave 'im a bite to eat... he looked like he hadn't had a proper meal for days... and listen'd to his story," the lynx lied with as much as a hesitational blink. "Som'thin' about bein' travelin' and tha' his money got stol'n or som'thin'. Anyway, I offered 'im a shower and a job as my second farmhand for the time bein'. Help gettin' 'im back on his feet 'n all. I even got 'im one of those tobacco pouches since I learned he is a smoker. Speaking of which, ya mind?"

He held up his own pouch.

"It's not our office. We don't know if the sheriff is ok with that," Judy stated. "But given the lack of 'No Smoking'-signs and the ashtray in front of you, it's safe to assume that he doesn't care. Just do me the favour and don't blow it into any of our muzzles."

Harald had already started rolling when Judy began to reply, so his cigarette was rolled and lit before she finished her sentence. "Whatev'r ya wish."

"What happened then, Mr. Gaupa?"

"Well, we work'd alongside each other for a week. And then, in the night of the eleventh, this bastard went ahead and defiled my daughter, probably against her will... My most precious thing in the world and he comes in and hurts her like that! That putrid good-for-nothin' punk turned her against me as well, her own father! Can you believe tha'?!" Harald openly snarled at this point and Elliot was already ready to intervene if the lynx snapped.

But no one aside from the furious lynx believed that any hurting or force was involved. If anything, Charles might have found someone who liked him back. He got into fights, yes, but he was not the type of mammal who would force himself onto someone else like that. Aside that, how could his daughter be turned against him if Charles raped her first? Nothing about this made sense. This Gaupa was clearly delusional.

"And then?"

"Well, I found 'em in her bed. I was angry beyond hell as ya can imagine! I told 'im to get dressed and leave my property. Gave 'im the ol' scare-off with the shotgun."

"Scare-off?" Nick's paws under the table were trembling, ready to pounce that feline in front of him.

"Yup, made 'im face away and kneel in front of me and placed the tip of the gun against his back… he even begged to not hurt 'im," he chuckled at the last part. "He'll know to keep it in his pants from now on. The hammers just went down with a click. Lucky the rifle wasn't loaded, didn't need to explain the body to the authorities. I mean I wouldn't even have lied, he did invade my home but my day started shitty enough. So before that scum understood what had happened, I gave 'im the boot and he scurried off, yessir!"

' _Is this fucker proud of himself? IS HE FUCKING PROUD?!'_

"Sorry, I'll be right back," the fox excused himself. He had to leave the room and find Elliot.

"GIVE ME MY PILLS, WHITE FANG!" he shouted as he boomed into the room.

"Nick, keep it down! These rooms are well isolated but not sound proof."

"Give... me... my... pills," Nick snarled, his volume is reduced but still hostile.

Fanghanel fished out the bottle from his utility belt. "You know I don't like to do this, but I understand."

Nick snatched the medicine as soon as he saw it and popped two pills in his mouth. He pressed his back against the cold concrete wall and slid down on the cold floor to cower in on himself.

"Charles must have thought he would die in that moment. How can someone do that to a teenager? I feel so sorry for him," Nick whispered through ragged breaths.

It took a few minutes before his paws stopped shaking and he could recompose himself again.

Elliot watched this display with pity. He didn't know if he would react the same or maybe even worse if he would have been thrown in this situation. Hell, he was ready to rip that lynx apart right then and there and he wasn't worn down on months of such a crushing burden.

Eventually, Nick made his way back into the interrogation room and found that they had took a pause. Apparently, Judy didn't fare much better than him and needed him as support to push on further. He took a seat next to his wife and wrapped his bushy tail around her leg, outside of the lynx' vision.

"You mentioned your daughter," Nick began, letting Judy have at least a little rest. "What do you mean he turned her against you?"

"Well, whaddaya think!? Once I was done with that trash of a mammal, my poor girl began to have fights with me. Telling me what a horrible mammal I am and whatnot."

"But wouldn't that suggest that she took a liking in Charles? To me, it doesn't sound that there was any force or manipulation involved."

"I'm sure there was. Kits don't know what's good for 'em, even if they are eighteen or over. One day she'll come back and understand."

"Come back?"

"Yep, in one fight, she told me that she'll go back to university early and that she never wants to come back. My other farmhand, Michael, went with her. Broke my heart, I'll tell ya."

"Ok, next question. Which university does your daughter attend?"

"The Z-U-M, Zootopia University for Medicine. Ey, I saw ya two wearin' ZPD Shields. If ya find her, could you talk to her? Maybe convince her to come back after her semester? Her name is Lydia, and my farmhand is Michael Vulpez."

With this, they had everything they need to continue: Two names, a city - which was ironically the city they came here from - and the name of the school. Finally they had a new lead to attend to.

"Mr. Gaupa, let me tell you this: We will NOT do that! You showed us today, that you are delusional and that your daughter is way better off without you," Nick explained as if reading him his rights.

"DELUSIONAL AND A MONSTER!" Judy couldn't hold it any longer now, she had to shout into this mammals face at least once.

"We don't have jurisdiction here, but as we mentioned, this interview is recorded, both in video and audio, and you confessed to assaulting a mammal with a deadly weapon."

"Deadly weapon? I said I gave 'im the boot. That was nothing more than a firm shove."

"Did you check if the rifle was unloaded before you pulled the trigger? It sounded like it was a surprise to yourself as well."

Harald's eyes went wide and his ears fell down in a matter of milliseconds.

"We will simply hand you over to sheriff Bitinberger. He will decide what to do with someone as disgusting as you," Nick said after turning and smiling down to Judy. "Come on, let's go."

And with this, the team of the white wolf, gray bunny and red fox gave Hector the order to take Mr. Gaupa into custody and they made their way back to Zootopia.

The revelations they got weighed heavy, but there was a glimmer of hope that he might have gone back to his hometown with this Lydia. If not, she might know where he is. If neither are the case, they at least brought justice to this scumbag lynx. On their way back, Judy - now driving shotgun next to Elliot - contacted dispatch of precinct one, ordering them to find either Lydia Gaupa or Michael Vulpez and bring them in for questioning, before giving them the information that dispatch needed.

"Suspects or witnesses?" Benji asked as he wrote the info onto a notepad.

"Witness. Tell our officers to be gentle."

"Will do. And you guys? Good job. Dispatch over."

Nick looked at the clock. Exactly three o'clock.

"Say, White Fang, mind if I have some shuteye? I'm kinda spent."

"Sure, go ahead. You earned it... both of you. I wouldn't have kept my composure in your steps. Judy, you should rest up as well."

"I… I guess you're right. Thanks, Elliot, for everything." Judy unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled back next to her fox who was already sprawled out on the back bench.

Within seconds, embraced by her husband, she slept deeply. The wolf did the best he could to keep the cruiser stable and avoid any unnecessary shaking. He could not help himself and took a picture of his favourite couple - aside from his own marriage - through the rearview mirror as he saw them smiling contently.

A few moments later, he heard Judy's sleeping sounds for the first time. She made a faint 'mew'ing sound every time she exhaled. He almost woke them up as he couldn't stifle an 'Awww' at the sound.

 **18th of December 2006 5:39 p.m.**

 **Precinct one, Zootopia**

The bunny and the fox stirred and softly woke up as the soothing rumble of the engine was shut off.

"Hey there, more good news. Lydia Gaupa came in fifteen minutes ago. Clawhauser found her current phone number online and asked her to come in."

"Damn, we should have brought more dessert for you two," Nick snickered.

"Dessert?"

"Oh right, we bought donuts for Benji and a pumpkin pie for your help this morning," Judy replied and Elliot's tail started to wag immediately with his tongue falling out of his maw. "That is, if Benji didn't eat it all, over the course of the day."

"Nah, he probably put it in the fridge. Now, you should head upstairs; Ms. Gaupa is waiting at your desk. Wolford is keeping her company. In the meantime, I will request the footage from Hector to cement our justification for the trip."

"Don't work too long. I guess your wife's already missing you."

"Ah, she already knows what's up," Elliot said with a wink as he waved his phone in his paw. "I should tell you from her, that she is rooting for you and wishes you the best of luck."

"Extend our gratitude when you come home," Nick concluded as he made his way out of the cruiser after Judy.

They went into the lobby and wanted to greet Clawhauser, but he ushered them towards the stairs and to their office cubicles immediately.

"Hello. You must be Ms. Gaupa?"

"Y-yes, that's me, but please call me Lydia. You must be the famous cop duo Nick and Judy Wilde-Hopps?"

"Yep, we are," Nick answered with a smirk. "You've heard of us?"

"Who hasn't?" Lydia giggled, but stopped a few moments later, looking a bit ashamed at her hind paws. "Oh, sorry, I should take this more seriously. What's going on? A… am I in trouble?"

"No, of course not. We wanted to talk about this mammal," Judy said as she pulled out one of Charles' missing-posers, alongside her notepad and carrot pen. It was not the original one from her first big case as its ink had run out years ago. The original pen was well hidden in Nick's secret stash of memorabilia.

Her eyes started to become a tad bit glossy as she took a look at the picture. "Yes, this is Charles. You know what happened to him?"

"That's what we want to find out. You are one of the last mammal who has seen him alive."

"What?! Y-you m-mean he… he is… " Lydia stammered and now broke down in tears, and Judy held her paws against her mouth.

"No! No-no-no-no, just a misunderstanding," Nick interjected in a soothing tone. "A case of bad phrasing from my wife. He's simply missing and our lead ends at the farm of your father. After talking to him, we hoped Charles would have come back here with you."

Lydia's voice was just an ensemble of sobs and hiccups at first, but she quickly regained her composure. "I-I wish he would've, but… but I couldn't find him before I left for the city. I searched the town and waited e-every evening at the river clearing where we first met, hoping he would return there. After a week, I couldn't stand it at home, so Michael helped me come here. And all because of my damn father!" The last word was just a hiss. "…oh sorry, I shouldn't curse here. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, don't worry, dear, we met your father. I was so close to ripping him apart myself." Nick's expression was soft and reassuring as he touched Lydia's shoulder.

"You should have. He deserved it. He treated Charles like a piece of shit since day one," Lydia said with slumped shoulders and sad expression.

"Sorry, I have to ask you. Would you be ok with being a witness if we bring your father to court?"

"Absolutely! He's got it coming to him."

"Alright, ok. Then we need your version of the story. Please don't leave out anything as we want to paint a bigger picture of the mammals involved. Are you ok if we have it recorded as well?"

"Anything!"

Charles would have been proud. His Lydia switched from shy into determined on a flick of a switch in the same way she did when she tended his wounds.

Nick collected a tape recorder, inserted a fresh tape and hit the record button. Judy stated her full name, as did Nick, and they asked Lydia to do the same, as well as her date of birth and current residence.

"Let's start with how and when you met our… I mean Charles."

"That was… early August. I was back at my father's farm during the summer months. On the day I met him, maybe it was the 4th or 5th, I was going to a river clearing across town with a friend. Her name is Kathy O'Coonor. We planned to go swimming, have a picnic, basically what you do in summer in a rural area. And there we saw him… " Lydia stated and a faint smile brightened her facial features and she giggled at the memory. "Hilariously enough, he was naked at that moment. Apparently, he wasn't expecting company. I was so embarrassed, you wouldn't believe it. He spotted us since Kathy tried to push me towards him, while I only wanted to hide in the bushes. My ears must have looked like a tomato."

"At least I wasn't alone with my embarrassment. Charles also jumped behind cover as he realised he was not alone anymore. He came back out with his undies on, he must have grabbed them when he made that mad dash out of sight, and Kathy tried her best to break the ice between us. And it totally worked. I didn't realise it at first, but she must have seen the moment that it sparked between Charles and me."

"So much so, that I didn't even care that he was a wanderer, where he came from, what he did before or where he planned on going after he told us about himself. All I knew was that I wanted him around as long as possible and with the way he told us his story, I saw a chance. You see, he told it with such sadness, I felt like he was sick of traveling. So I told him that he could work for my father as a farmhand. It's not much, but it's honest work and he could stick around for a while. And guess what? He really did show up the next morning. I was so happy, you couldn't imagine. But this was also the first time I saw my father treat him badly…"

Her mood went from giddy to sour in the blink of an eye.

"It was raining that morning and Charles must've fallen into a puddle, because his fur and clothes were dirty and my father wanted to send him away simply because of that. He called him names like bum and stray and I saw that it hurt Charles…" she ended with a sigh and paused. As she wanted to continue, her lower lip started to quiver and she teared up again while hiding her face behind her paws. "What came after was all my fault."

Nick pushed the pause button on the recorder and knelt next to Lydia. "Take all the time you need. If you need a break, just tell us, ok? How about a soda?"

"Yes, I would like that. Thank you."

Judy was touched by this display. Over the course of the last few months, she forgot how gentle her husband could be.

"And a mocca carrotchino for you?" Nick asked Judy who replied with a smile and a nod.

' _Gentle and caring. And I always give him a hard time… I know! I will surprise him tonight. It has been too long anyway,'_ she thought to herself.

A few minutes passed while everyone sipped on their beverages.

"I-I think we can carry on."

Nick unpaused the recording.

"So, what did you mean by 'this is all your fault'?" Judy asked.

"I convinced my father to take him in, give him a chance and he stayed. Everything that happened, happened because of that. The next few days ran like this: I made breakfast for all of us, they went to work and I did housework until it was lunchtime. I sometimes… actually daily… admired Charles from afar. I didn't know how to speak to him when it was just the two of us. On the second day, I had an idea. It wouldn't help me talk, but it would give me an excuse to be close to him. It was mid afternoon, and he was chopping wood in the blistering heat, so I prepared a jug of ice tea for him. And you know what he did? He took the jug, filled a glass and handed it to me. He himself just drank directly from the jug. His first thought was not just to drink it, his first thought was to share. You couldn't believe how sweet that was. And from then on out, this became our daily ritual."

"That's my boy," Nick mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"What was that, Sir?"

"Uh… nothing, please go on."

"Ok, now, where was I? Ah, right, the ritual! So one day, I believe it was the eleventh, I asked him out. My friend Kathy organised a small fest, we call it 'barneque', and this was my chance and he agreed eagerly. I was the happiest lynx on this planet. Michael, Charles and I made our way to Kathy. Arriving there, Mikey and Kathy scurried off together rather quickly, giving Charles and me some alone time. We danced to the music, drank a few sips and then we had a bite from the spit-roast. As we sat closely together, I collected all the courage I could find in me, and aimed for a peck on his cheek. In that moment, he turned his head towards me and we accidentally kissed on the lips. I didn't know if I should run away or hide under the table, or what I would've done if he had gotten angry or something. But he just looked confused, maybe a bit dumbfounded, so I said 'screw it' and kissed him again. And that's when he kissed back. The night couldn't have gone any better… so far…"

Lydia took a pause again, long enough for Nick to ask if everything was alright.

"Yes, thank you. So, everything went great. Until we were approached by Cletus and his friends. Rancid bastards."

"Who is that?"

"Cletus Sabron and the Tuskanelli-brothers, Trevor and Billy-Bob. Cletus is a serval and the Tuskanellis are warthogs, I can give you their addresses."

"Afterwards. This is more like a statement."

"Ah, alright. Ok, so these three approached us, well, me alone at first as Charles was at the kegs and refilled our cups. Cletus hated the fact that I rejected him a few years prior and hated it even more that I was with Charles then. He spewed his specism and anger practically into my face, until Charles stepped between us. From that point on, others saw the standoff as well. That scared Cletus and his gang away for the time being. Until we, together with Michael who came back to us, decided to head home. The three ambushed us there, gave Charles a laceration and a cut on his arm, but we made it out. Charles was so courageous as he saved me twice that night, that's when I knew I loved him. I may still be young, but I know what love feels like now."

Judy was torn again. On one paw, she was scared for her son who was attacked viciously enough to leave him wounded, but on the other, she was touched at how he treated that young lynx and how she viewed him.

"Anyway, we made it inside and only then did I see his cuts. I immediately ordered him to wash off his blood and get into my room. By the time he did, I already had thread and needle ready. I gave him stitches, and thanked him for his heroism." Another smile danced over Lydia's face and her ears were red as beets. "A-and then, one thing lead to another… and we shared a bed for the night and it was wonderful. I wished at that point, that the night would never end, and now, I wish even more so that it would never had… Because here, my father comes into play again."

And just like that, her happiness was gone. Replaced by bitterness, anger and a broken heart.

"He… he found us the next day. He dragged Charles out of bed and onto the floor, ordered him to get dressed and leave. He shouted at me as I tried to defend my boyfriend and then he locked me into my room. I cried until I heard the front door open and slam shut. I-I watched my father escorting Charles to the border of the farm… with a shotgun trained on him. It took painfully long, but eventually, I saw Charles flinch and then my father kicked him in the back and my buff bunny scurried away."

Lydia sobbed again. Nick wanted to pause the recording once more but she interrupted him.

"No, please, I want to have this done."

"No problem," Nick said in an understanding, almost fatherly tone.

"I shut the blinds and didn't leave my room for the rest of the day, even after the door was unlocked again. I could do nothing more than cry. Father tried to talk to me, but I never wanted to see him again, so all I did was shout at him, God knows he deserved it! After a few days, Michael took me with him back to Zootopia to be his roommate and now I'm here. Thank you both so much for listening to me. I… um… ah screw it."

Lydia got up and embraced the first bunny officer in front of her and then the fox. "I don't care if it's inappropriate. Oh and please, if you find Charlie, tell me as soon as you can."

"Promised, Lydia. We will even keep you updated with any non-classified information about him. But please, stay for a little longer, so we can note down the details of Michael, Kathy and the guys you had a fight with."

"Everything that helps you finding him."

Sadly, even with the new leads, the search came up with nothing. Nick and Judy interviewed Mr. Vulpez the next day - which simply backed up the story from Lydia - while in Clearwater, the officers under the command of Hector, interviewed Kathy and found the three mammals who attacked Charles after the barneque. They would face assault charges soon after. With the weapon still in the possession of Cletus and the two testimonies, it was an open-and-shut case.


End file.
